Rare Magic of Empathy Part 1: Lost Magic
by writershreyac
Summary: Every important building in Magical Britain started humming and vibrating on its own throughout January 1960. Among them, the strongest vibrations came from the castle of Hogwarts! The house elves and the goblins and several of the magical creatures welcome it, knowing fully well, Old Magic is awake once again and somewhere the prophecised children are born at last! (Au/Oc)
1. Prologue

**Rare Magic of Empathy**

Series Summary: Love, this four-letter word, unlike all other emotions, is sheer complex power. Add an ancient magical core to it and the world tilts at its axis with a single flick of a finger or that's what Lily Potter realized mere seconds before her death. Rarer still is the manifestation of Empathetic magic. Minerva McGonagall knows of such power for she oversees its growth before her eyes but unknown to Albus Dumbledore. Severus Snape, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger- will taste and be tested by this Magic- as Magical Britain prepares for the second collision of the Light and Dark side. When all hope seems lost, Hogwarts will call for its ancient allies to defend its values and honor.

(It's definitely AU, so you will see greyer versions of many characters. Even minor characters will end up playing pivotal roles. Previously it was called Love Empowered Empathy. Several of you had commented on the old version of this story. That is why you are seeing those reviews. (AuntCori)).

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**Lost Magic**

Part 1 Summary: Every important building in Magical Britain started humming and vibrating on its own throughout January 1960. Among them, the strongest vibrations came from the castle of Hogwarts! The house-elves and the goblins and several of the magical creatures welcomed it, knowing fully well, Old Magic is awake once again and somewhere the prophesied children are born at last! Oceans across, a forgotten settlement holds a vital key to the unique problem. Last of the cursed line of the Prince Family, guarded by ravens, Severus Snape's soul is destined to meet its Evanstar. It is his destiny to live among the Dark, though darkness will pale against his pristine soul. A tale of smoldering love and of blazing courage. Happiness is often bittersweet. (T/M) (Au/Oc)

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Disclaimer: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling. This story was knocking its head in my mind for the last decade or so. Finally, I could gather the courage to pen it down, or better type it down. My mind lives in the Harry Potter fanfiction world though my body is still thankfully anchored in the monotonous reality of existence. My stories, ideas, and theories can get indirectly influenced by many of the brilliant fanfiction writers on this site. And I humbly bow to such creative genius who give me much needed literary pleasures to see through the toils of mundane life. Lastly, I don't have a beta, so please be merciful. Reviews would encourage this introvert writer to peep out of her literary closet.

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**Lost Magic**

Prologue

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry,_  
_Scotland,_  
_30 January 1968_

Filius Flitwick looked at his late-night guest fuming in her seat and weighed his options.

His silence infuriated her so much so that she warned, " I can at least go and tell, Albus, your loyalty is questionable."

He narrowed his eyes and challenged, "Is it? Do tell me how exactly is my loyalty questionable Minerva McGonagall? Before you say another word, remember the vow all professors need to take before accepting their post. As far as I remember, even the Headmaster's lines are similar. Especially the part where we pledge ourselves to Hogwarts..."

Unable to accept the fact that her hands were truly tied, the irate Gryffindor hissed much like a cornered cat, "So what do you expect from me?"

"Continue to be loyal to Hogwarts," steepling his wrinkled hands, resting his chin over it, he suggested.

"And, watch Dumbledore hunt for answers all by himself! The Minister of Magic…" the witch in tartan robes countered, not believing in his underlying hints.

The half-Goblin Charms Professor huffed and twisted his face, "The Minister of Magic, Mr. Nobby Leach will never outsmart Albus. He will stop bothering our headmaster as soon as the elections are over and done with. In any case, he is not going to win it."

"But, Albus?"

"Don't worry about him. He will soon have much more vital things to bother about. He knows Tom Riddle is not a boy to sit idle and do nothing. He is not going to make the same mistakes. He has learned quite a number of lessons from his association with Gellert Grindelwald."

"But at least you can tell me, why does the vibration ease off a bit, when I touch the walls of the castle."

"Alas! I wish I truly knew why and how that's happening."

"I got so many questions…" feeling utterly lost, the witch murmured.

"I know...but I am certain, these vibrations wouldn't go away anytime soon."

"The prophecy?! The one you told me about the other day!" the other exclaimed.

"Yes, indeed."

"But I looked everywhere. I asked old contacts…"

"I hope you were subtle enough…" he countered.

"Filius, you will remember surely, I worked in the Ministry…" the witch glowered.

Throwing his arms in the air, the Half Goblin spat,"Urgh! Didn't I tell you, it is ANCIENT! Ancient enough to be considered a fable, a myth. Far older than the ministry or the magical community of the world we live in today."

"You weren't exactly helping! Albus was clueless…the students, their parents..." the witch across the table replied tersely.

"Just, tell me, Minerva, tell me, can you question the authenticity of Magic? Can you! The fact that these vibrations are happening all over Magical Britain is significant enough. These dumb wits can knock around as much as they can, but those of us, who know, will keep our mouth shut for good." Filius half-shouted in frustration, mumbling under his breath, Gryffindors and their extra bone called stubbornness.

"Do you think the destined children are already born..." the Transfiguration Professor whispered in awe, still trying to understand everything that is happening around her.

"I strongly believe that is the case, My dear. I am ardently praying to Merlin day and night, that they attend Hogwarts soon enough. It is an honour to teach such old souls. Imagine the magic they will be able to harness." The diminutive professor nodded at his colleague with gleaming eyes.

"Honestly Filius, I can't really...it bothers me...these things. Everywhere I go, I feel like I am being watched, I feel like someone is listening to my thoughts, someone is trying to speak to me and at times, someone is desperately trying to help me out of my miseries. I know for certain, it is not a ghost or a spirit. I want answers."

"Then, why don't you ask the witch who can tame dragons, oceans away."

"I don't know what you are saying…" The younger witch tried to pretend, but her experienced colleague was fast enough, "Very well then, I will spell it out for you. Write about your worries to Solveig Marit Kolbuck. I am sure the Aunt will finally open up."

"Filius! How!" she sputtered and pursed her lips.

Slightly hurt, the older wizard gritted his teeth and replied, "I am not reading your letters, Minerva. It is the witch who is making enquiries about me. I am not a fool, I am the Head of the House of Ravenclaws not for nothing. Now, go back to your quarters and get some sleep. First thing in the morning, write that letter to your aunt and ask for her help outright."

"And we will continue to keep Albus in the dark?" she whispered.

"What if I tell you, it is for his own good? Minerva, Albus is powerful enough to have found several ways to manipulate magic. But everything comes with a cost. Under all circumstances, one must not disrupt Nature's Will."

"I am sorry, I don't understand."

"All I can tell you, dear, is that the Headmaster is probably cursed."

"WHAT?"

"I have a hunch, that is all."

"Filius, if in case all this is real, How will we recognize these children?"

"I don't know, maybe we can try to look out for the brighter ones among the dunderheads," the wizard pondered, as he made his way around the table and stood next to the Gryffindor Witch.

"Is it possible to locate them before they attend Hogwarts?" she asked hopefully.

Holding her hand to stir her towards the door, Flitwick observed pensively, "Minerva, ever since Tom Riddle passed out, Dumbledore has been keener about finding children with extraordinary capacities to perform magic. He has already found a few bright witches and wizards. If I am not wrong, he will make certain that they attend Hogwarts. Not that I oppose it. Not, when Dumstrang has openly declared its fascination for Dark Arts and Beauxbatons prefers to keep their curriculum restricted to professing the Veela Culture. Hogwarts alone serves as the school with radical ideologies- it still allows Purebloods, Halfbloods, and Muggleborns to learn from each other in a congenial environment. Albus is trying hard to see to it, much in the face of opposition from wizards like Abraxas Malfoy."

"I do understand, but, what if they don't attend Hogwarts at all?"

"Minerva seriously! Magic gives birth to miracles when the wizard or the witch channels all her resources into fueling her intention whole-heartedly. Their single-minded intention must surpass every other thing dear to them. It all depends on the power of will and the sheer amount of energy the caster puts in the spell and those who don't believe in magic will never find it. To watch something like this happen in my lifetime, I will call it a Miracle. But this is not just that. This time, I think it is not the professors or the House-elves, this time even the castle itself is eagerly waiting for the prophesied children to arrive." Filius's eyes shone with excited anticipation.

"How will we recognize them?" This time the witch whispered the words, trying to convince herself, but the man standing next to her heard them.

"By keeping our eyes and ears open and putting our faith in this castle as ever." Filius Flitwick offered, genially.

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A/N: For the sake of this story, I have made the former Headmaster Armando Dippet retire before 1960. In the HP world, he left the office somewhere between1965 and 1971.

Professor Flitwick was born around 1958. But I am making him much older, for the sake of my story.


	2. Chapter 1

Introducing the other Magical World existing along with JK's HP world. They both will intertwine with each other, throughout the series. I decided to rewrite the Love Empowered Empathy story into this new one. This time around, I am planning to finish it. I could have taken down the entire thing, but I didn't wish to lose those valuable reviews.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

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**Chapter 1**

**Dragon's Kelp, Appalachian Mountains**

**January 1960**

The Witch Rider pulled at the reins of her familiar and gracefully landed at the man-made clearing deep into the ridge, walled up on three sides by the bent of the mountain mimicking the shape of a horseshoe. The highest peaks stood tall at the toe side, while the range smoothened out gradually towards the two edges. Dismounting from her saddle, she placed one hand against the scales of her familiar and smiled softly. The beast continued to stand still and breathe hard, as the woman next to it placed her other hand over her forehead to guard her eyes against the slanting rays of the sun and looked up to survey the afternoon sky.

Several other fire-breathing beasts were circling overhead before snooping down into the clearing. From the top of the mountain range towering right behind the witch and her magical creature, if one was to look to the north-east, one could catch a glimpse of a small magical harbor right beyond the dense forest that naturally camouflaged the caves and the magical settlement. The harbor and the rest of the muggle world complete with a prominent port and a thriving industrial town lay farther down the edge. From one of the higher windows of the towers of the settlement above the mountain top, a wary dweller could watch the white foamy ribbons of waves rise and fall as well. A little into the ocean there hung a perpetual thick Mist.

The settlers didn't grumble much about it, since they had never seen the Sun melt down into the ocean turning the watery surface into a palate full of oil paints. Rather, they were more used to watching the deep orange and red orb hide behind the small mountain range every evening. This smaller undulating row of hills stood like a mute guardian protecting the southeastern part of the meandering chain of Appalachian mountains, cradling the forest, the caves, and the settlement much like a mother guarding her children against the harsh outside world.

When the magnificent beast shrugged its body and started climbing up the side of the mountain dotted with caves all by itself, ignoring its rider's presence, Solveig Marit Kolbuck narrowed her eyes and thought hard. _'Stop sulking! I promise I won't go too far next time. It's just that I miss the other side of the Mist! That's all.' _Stomping her feet, she felt the blood run down her legs and sighed. Next, she tugged at her leather hood and undid the top buttons of her thick coat, before clamoring behind her beast.

Minutes passed and the Witch Rider huffed in indignation. She wasn't really naive, she was the most formidable witch feared and revered by everyone who was aware of this Hidden World. Moreover, she alone had the honor to ride the oldest dragon to have ever lived on the whole continent. The dragon was not her pet, it was more like a companion who shared not only her magic but also her mind.

Finally, when the two had made it halfway up the steep slope, the large magical creature stopped at its tracks and stared across the horizon peeping from behind the rows of mountain tops, where the sun was about to set. The woman waited a couple of steps behind it, watching it intently._ 'Stop acting like a child, you can't go on ignoring me,'_ she thought slightly annoyed.

Her familiar, a fully grown Norwegian Ridgeback, looked over her shoulders and blinked. _'It is not just the other side of the Mist, Sol-ari, you miss him as well. After all these years, I wonder how it is that a human is capable of loving someone so endlessly.'_

_'Naireen, I...,' _the witch tried to apologize, remembering she was talking to none other than the most feared magical creature living on this side of the hidden world. She didn't even wish to acknowledge the mention of 'him'. Years ago, the two had silently agreed never to talk about it for the rest of their lives and rather focus on the singular task at hand, The Cause of Gul Vilt to be precise.

Lowering her head, Naireen sniffed the ground and thought back, _'You don't need to apologize._ _I__ am not blaming you Sol-ari. I don't doubt your dedication to The Cause, I can't say you have drifted away from your vows either.' _

Tilting her head sideways, the dragon studied the witch and observed, as if trying to solve the grand puzzle of the universe,_ 'But at the same time, your love for him is much alive, like a candle burning in a dark cave. I am not angry, I am just confused to see how you continue to wear that phoenix feather around your neck and at the same time wear that brooch and that ring, swearing your allegiance to Gul-Vilt. I still can't understand how two different magical essences co-exist harmoniously. It is an enigma I badly want to solve even after all these years.'_

Solveig was too tired after a long flight and had little patience for Naireen's riddles. Besides that, she was certain she just wanted to fly through The Mist hanging heavily over the horizon today morning. She knew it was nothing less than a childish pursuit. The temptation was too strong to resist, _'Just to feel the wet touch of the woolly clouds and forget the problems of the world,'_ strong enough, that she had literally forced her beast to fly right into the foaming thick cloudy wall without thinking over the consequences.

Of course, nothing had happened. Both the rider and the dragon had just skirted through the hazy Mist for a couple of minutes, before Naireen had panicked and dashed out of it and flew high, flapping her wings frantically until they had reached the mountain range in record time. Solveig was sure, no one from the small magical harbor or the muggle port and the industrial town surrounding it had noticed them. For the rest of the drill, Naireen had been quiet and stiff but had continued on with the exercises keeping in mind that the other dragons of her nest were now flying around them. They kept their distance from the irate matriarch but had continued to watch her movements and obediently followed her orders like every other day.

_'First, she mentions of him, and now this- '**two distinctly different magical essences co-existing harmoniously.**' As if she wasn't the first one to tell me **'magic opens the door to endless possibilities**,'_ Solveig narrowed her eyes at her familiar but Naireen held her stare mutely accepting the challenge.

Minutes passed before the witch blinked her pricking eyes and looked skywards. Pursing her lips, folding her hands over her chest she huffed, _'Naireen...I am the last Kolbuck, if there was ever a prophecy, it was supposed to come true around my time. I have been your Handler Mistress for nearly half a century. I have dedicated more than twenty-five years serving the cause by being the Keeper Matre of Dragon's Kelp. What if I tell you this Phoenix Feather gives me hope…" _Even if her hair had turned silver, to her familiar she was still _"a shy and docile maiden", _a phrase that irritated the witch much to her beast's amusement.

But the dragon didn't tease her this time. It sounded withdrawn and sad when it replied back in her mind,_ "Sol-ari, I can understand that it gives you Hope to continue waiting for the prophecy to come true.' _Breathing deeply over the worn-out track, it watched the specks of dusty cloud that rose in the process and rumbled,_ 'But can you assure me whether that Phoenix Feather is capable of giving you strength at the hour of despair and desolation? You are aware that you are the end of the Kolbuck line. But consider this for once. Are you strong enough to standby and watch the end of your world and the beginning of a New Age?'_

_'Here we go again as if we haven't had this conversation for a million times already,' e_xasperated the witch opened her mouth, but the beast glared back at her.

Naireen spoke once again, this time her voice rang louder and was more commanding leaving no room for further argument_, 'You don't need to answer me as long as you are prepared for everything that is about to happen.'_

The dragon craned her head towards the setting Sun and cried once, before lumbering up the steep pathway that led to the largest of the cave entrances, leaving her rider to her dueling thoughts.

Solveig fiddled with her phoenix feather pendant and looked at the horizon. She mumbled in a small and defeated voice, that definitely did not belong to an old woman. Rather she sounded like a young maid grieving over her lost lover, "It was only a week ago, we welcomed this New Year. Now, look at the setting Sun, Naireen, how eager it is to sink beyond the horizon! I know he might not recognize me. But I also feel we will meet once again. I wear this feather of his familiar, just in case, he can recall our last meeting."

The ochre sun gradually made its way, sinking bit by bit through the pink, orange, and violet ribbons of clouds stretched across the horizon. With the sundown, the chill readily swept over the sides of the mountains reminding all the living beings, beast and man, that winter was here to stay for some more months. Ancient Magic and the presence of dragons aided in warming up the region during the harsh wintery months, but once the giant beasts retired for the day, Nature reclaimed its rightful stand.

The magical creatures of the Dragon's Kelp were well hidden from the eyes of the occasional muggle hitchhikers and trail walkers of the Appalachian Mountains due to the same Ancient Magic still alive and vibrant coursing through every particle of the place. No one could tell for sure when it was placed over the mountain range which seamlessly disappeared from all muggle tales, maps, and travel accounts. The Kelp dwellers strongly believed it was their ancestors' sacrifice that protected them for ages.

The dragon rider, the finest witch around these parts, tilted her head up and watched several of the returning dragons bid farewells to the day, by craning their necks high and calling to the departing sun. A band of handlers and apprentices were guiding and watching over them as they retreated to their catacomb of nests secluded in the numerous heavily warded caves dotting this side of the mountains. Pulling at her gloves, she started walking up another set of paths that would finally lead her to the settlement on top.

She had only gone up a couple of steps when she felt it. A faint rumble coming from below her feet. Solveig stood still and concentrated, straining her senses and her magic far enough. _No, the protective wards are intact,_ she thought as she slowly turned her head and watched the last of the dragons disappear in the dark cavities of the small caves. Still, she decided to wait and watch the small group of handlers talking among themselves while closing the cave mouths with glinting golden gates and their signature magic. _None of them seemed to have felt it, perhaps it was just a trick of my mind_, shaking her head the witch resumed her journey this time tempted by the thought of a warm bath and a hearty meal.

Solveig was used to climbing mountains. She had been doing this for a long time, but even now her surroundings, its wilderness, and the promise of new adventures kindled her spirit. This was one of those places in the world, where Nature herself found ways to hide its precious bundles, lesser forces had little or no say in the matter. The cave mouths were interlinked with paths, a little wider than goat tracks.

Only a seasoned handler or a tested night guard was able to venture into them after sunset. But only if the ferocious fire breathers approved of their presence. There had been rare occasions of foolishly daring men getting scorched or worse maimed because they had ended up annoying the giant beasts by their mere presence during their slumber time. As the witch clambered higher, she watched the sun retreat and darkness draw its blackened cloak around the world, quite hastily.

High on the perch, twinkling lights from the small settlement soon became visible. It housed the quarters of the Kelp handlers, apprentices, and house elves, a moderate kitchen, and a rather comprehensive library magically extended to store rare books, scrolls and parchments mainly focused on Magical Creatures and the unique history of the place. There were also a handful of guest quarters and a Hall to gather in the evenings and to join in for meals served thrice daily.

The settlement looked more like a disjointed Gatehouse in ruins. Locals called this side of the mountain the Dragon's Kelp, from the unique tinge of green shrubs and wild creepers that grew in abundance and the giant beasts that walked freely among them.

The nearest habitat was yet another long-standing settlement of Haermlock Gallows. Haermlock lay on the other side, cut off from the forest, and the magical harbor by the mountain itself. Any Haermlock traveler willing to travel by sea had to climb up the mountain, pass through Solveig's territory of Dragon's Kelp then climb down the other side. This time, they had to be escorted by dragon handlers for their own safety. The forest had a dusty path running among its thick foliage. travelers could hire a carriage that would take them to the harbor in half a day's time. As for the Gatehouse, they referred to it as the Gul-Vilt's Teeth, or simply the Teeth. The muggle world knew nothing of the Teeth and cared much less about a dying township with an eerie name Gallows.

But the mountainside and its crown weren't always this pathetic and haunting at sight. Before the Great Fire there stood a huge palace made of gold and marble which looked like a fierce Dragon Head. After the tragedy only one and half of its proud towers stood tall, suddenly cropping up shining a paler shade of grey-white in the morning Sun. The half-broken North Teeth still housed the small owlery as well as the quarters of the House-elves. The tower jutted upwards much like a broken and blackened canine of a giant beast. The wizardry community lived in the comparatively unharmed South Teeth and the Great Wall below that joined the two towers. The catacombs of the dragons lay way below the Great Wall itself.

Legends and myths handed down from one generation to the other had created a perfect enigma of the rather dreary place. Many millennia ago, dragons with their dragon herders flew over the great ocean in search of a better home from the Isles-The-Ocean-Hid. The New Continent back then had its own magical communities, spread out in pockets, cut off and ignorant of each other. The nearest to the Kelp was Haermlock Gallows.

Initially apprehensive about the newest arrivals, the locals had approached their formidable Head, Gult Vilt, The Dragon Tamer. A heated exchange of words, a clash of egos, and finally a sour disagreement about the land which the new settlers had wrongfully claimed as their own led to a short battle. Though it looked more like a scuffle- if you were to count dragons against a band of unaware wizards and witches armed with just their wands. The frightened and defeated party and the apologetic victor debated and discussed for weeks once they realized the futility of the whole episode.

The Elder's Scroll maintained it took a whole lunar cycle for the two parties to come to a unique agreement. A pack was signed and sealed between the ancient dragon herder though rather a king, if you go by the beliefs of the giant beasts themselves, Gul-Vilt, and that of the powerful wizard head of Haermlock Gallows, Borge Pyrenso. The treaty magically bonded with blood oaths of the Older kind stated that here the two magical races would settle together in peace tending to each other's needs and defending the Kelp from ungodly invasions of the Evil forces.

Wrapped in layers of fur and quilt, Solveig sat on her bed musing alone, much later into the night as she watched the moon float among the fluffy clouds through her open bedroom window, "Yet where the Good toils hard to preserve and thrive, the Evil and Greedy scheme to destroy."

There was a time when Old Tales enthralled her, but now it only made her uneasy. Heaving a deep sigh, she said to herself," Something, something is about to happen, I can feel it. These vibrations...I am certainly not imagining them." She tried to reach out to her beastly companions resting deep inside the mountain. But tonight, none of the dragons responded back, not even Naireen hummed and huffed in her mind.

For the magical community residing in both the Kelp and the Gallows, she was the most revered resident of the South Teeth, the present Kelp Mistress Handler, stern and demanding, Solveig Marit Kolbuck.

For her Dragon familiar, Naireen, and all those giant beasts residing in the catacombs far below the Great Wall, she was Sol-Ari. To her people, she was benevolent and just and for the dragons, she was nothing less than a surrogate mother. It was truly heartwarming to watch them trust their eggs and youngsters with her. Yet tonight, she felt alone and forsaken for no apparent reason.

The sounds of the surrounding forest amplified, as the night crept in further. A little later, the calls of the great beasts joined them creating an orchestra that was frightening and enticing at the same time. She knew the night guards, like every other day, were patrolling at the cave entrances. She could also sense the excitement and apprehension in the cries of those giant beasts.

Before closing her eyes and forcing herself to fall asleep, she muttered into the freezing January night, "Phoenix, something is surely going to happen this year. My dragons can feel it. And so can I, Something big is about to happen. May Gul Vilt's magic save us from the Unseen."

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Ari- is my inventive word for a girl in the Dragon language. Sol is the short form of Solveig.


	3. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling._

_Not much is mentioned about Severus Snape's early life or birth. So, I am trying to tell it in my own way._

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_**Chapter 3**_

_**Cokeworth, England**_

_**9th January, Year, 1960**_

'_Nothing good came out of the storm. Ever. Period,' _Tobias Snape snarled into his drink. Finally, picking up his mug of beer, he downed it in a large gulp. Harris the Bar-keep watched him from the other end of the counter while pouring fresh drinks for the newest patrons. Settling his tab with dirty crumpled notes, when the tousled haired man with a large red face, glassy eyes, and a prominent nose stood and swayed at his feet, Harris expected the beginning of yet another nasty brawl.

Fights were on the increase as were the sheer number of Cokeworth factory workers who decided to get drunk first and then head home, daily. It was rather a surprise that Tobias picked none but quietly made his way out of the pub. Every other patron looked up noticing the change.

Paul, the handyman at the factory, slammed his mug down and supplied rather amused," He would not get himself into any trouble today. He is already rolling in his own bog-house."

Harris arched a brow and smirked back in interest, hinting at the other older man to continue.

Chortling back, and then lowering his voice, Paul pretended to share a secret but whispered loud enough for many to hear, "He is going to be hit by a train today. I tell you, it serves him right! That weird lass he married last summer, will pop out anytime. Martin, our grocer, saw Fanny, the midwife, rushing to Spinner's End a while ago. Coming morning, we will have a Newer Snape to bother about."

He couldn't hold it any longer and broke into a burst of hearty laughter.

The whole pub thumped their mugs on the dirty tables in dull acknowledgment and quiet celebration. The birth of a baby at Cokeworth was no longer pleasant news. With every family living in identical homes that spoke of neglect, ill health, domestic violence, and poverty, a new member just meant another wailing mouth begging to be fed.

Standing right outside, leaning heavily on the frame of the closed door, Tobias scrunched his face at the sounds coming from inside and then growled at none particular.

He could no longer keep it all down. Crouching along the sideways, he threw up everything he had just eaten and drank. Wiping his face on his sleeves that smelt of grease and oil, he tried to take deep breaths, determined not to get affected by it.

The men and women walked past him pretending not to take a note of the huge man doubled at the edge of the pavement. Perhaps, if he was dead or nearly dying, they would care to crowd around and show him some pity and offer condolence. He wasn't asking to be complimented for becoming a father. The very thought sounded close to hearing his own death sentence.

No! Tobias Snape was a proud man. He might have been a terrible student, but he had managed to study enough to get a job in the factory. More than bookish knowledge and the Bible, the man lay more emphasis on physical strength, something he had in abundance.

Until last spring, he had not decided on anything in life. He thought, finally walking homewards, mentally ticking off his regular habits back then.

'_Work on the production belt from one whistle to another. Then go play cards with Mart and Douglas in the backyard of Sam's Garage. I also could spend the rest of the evening at Maggie's quarters. Or at other hangouts of young people. Anywhere, where there was loud jolly music, abundant supplies of beer, and an endless line of pretty girls in skirts to dance and flirt with,' _he smiled ruefully.

**And then, **Eileen Prince happened.

Tobias had managed to cross the by lanes, his boots hitting the little of the gravel path he could see through the fresh layer of snow haphazardly. He held on to a fence to balance himself, taking control of the gagging reflex working up his throat.

Cursing under his breath, he pulled the lapels of his coat closer and leaned against the freezing wooden planks. He could see the factory chimneys and its corrugated roof from here. Bleak and dull. "Huh! Already standing like the dead," he chuckled humorlessly.

Tilting his head further, he stared up at the dark sky, wondering, 'A storm was indeed brewing.' The pungent smell of the stream, running nearby loaded with factory waste, made him gag again.

Passing his hands over his face, he ruefully thought, 'I could have married Maggie, instead. I could have gone to the big city and work in the shops and earn better. City life is fairly tempting.'

Stokeshire was barely half a day away by train. But to get there, one had to take a mail train from Cokeworth till Trenthill first. Tobias had been to Stokeshire once and twice in his lifetime.

His long-dead uncle and his family used to live there. Following his cousins around the city, gawking at the ornate shops and the cinemas, the marketplace, and fancy rows of houses with gardens, the young man had dreamt of moving to the city after his studies were over.

He had realized his father could offer little money since honest locksmiths could never earn a good salary. So young Toby had saved hard until he had watched his own sister die all of a sudden. Dear Elizabeth looked so serene cocooned inside her small casket that it had broken his heart and shattered his big dreams into pieces. It had taught the brother the hardest of all lessons on life, no amount of money was enough to secure a better future.

The bitter young man had grown distant from his own parents, taking up quarters at Snipper's end after a long-awaited promotion. It wasn't until he had met the vivacious Maggie McDolen, that his old dreams of making it big in life had started resurfacing in his mind. Though by then, Toby had already walked down further into the shady life marked with heavy drinking, relentless partying, and brawling with strangers.

There was something in Maggie's dancing eyes and giggles that made him wish hard against all odds. Cokeworth would never be enough for the gorgeous Maggie McDolen. If he was ever to ask for her hand in marriage, Tobias Snape would have to buckle up and shift to Stokeshire, get a respectable job, buy a house and marry right after that.

_He could have all that if he had not gone impressing a fresh timid girl with shallow skin like porcelain and expensive clothes, eyeing the regular crowd with interest. He thought he had hit a jackpot that night in that pub where they had music. The girl had ready cash inside a weird pouch and she had offered to pay for all the beer. He could not recall how they ended up at Spinner's End later. _

_He did remember pinning the girl against the back of the closed front door and kissing her like a hungry lion. It didn't take a minute for the man to understand the naive girl was new to all this. the very realization had fueled his male ego. _

_Of all the people in England, this rich but unsure lass had picked him to learn how to make love. Heck! The girl was asking for it and he couldn't refuse. Tobias Snape was too glad to please. He had taken his time to disrobe the surprised but eager woman. and had responded adequately each time her fingers, lips, and mouth had managed to arouse him. The worn-out living room couch had proved too small for the two of them and the fire in the hearth close to the floor rug was dying out. Eileen was a fast learner and quite reluctant to let go of the man who had made her see the blissful stars several times through the night already. Her tugging arms and butterfly kisses were enough to encourage the master of the house to carry her up to his bedroom and make love to her lean petite body again and again. _

_Hours later, Tobias had rubbed his fingers over her soft skin and remembered, he didn't even know her full name. Eileen, all red, sweaty, and glowing, had mused back at him, "Its Prince." He made the second and fatal mistake of kissing her gently first on the lips and then on her brow and had whispered, "Nah! You must be a Princess. My Princess."_

_The next morning when he had woken up with a pounding headache, Eileen was nowhere to be seen. He thought perhaps, the whole night was a dream. The only thing that made it feel real- was a long black satin ribbon, tucked below one of the pillows._

_Brushing the whole affair aside, Tobias had gone back to his easy life. A month later, Eileen had surprised him again. She had simply appeared at his doorstep, one evening, knocking at it insistently. Maggie had invited herself earlier and their snogging season was rather rudely interrupted._

_Maggie had been the one to open the door. She had icily looked up and down a fidgeting Eileen wrapped in a deep green dress that shone under the porch light and then had shot a hard glance towards Tobias saying," We are done! Over!" grabbing her coat, his ex had walked past Eileen and that was the last he saw of her._

_Tobias had given up on God and religion after Eli's death; he didn't go to church, even if his parents continued to attend the mass every Sunday. But he did fear God. That fear alone had made him accept the cruel fact that seventeen years old Eileen Prince was pregnant with his child and that he should be gentleman enough to marry her. _

'_Eileen seemed rich enough, at least money would not be a problem anymore,' he had reasoned out to himself. They had married quickly. No one from Eileen's side attended. The girl told him they could surprise the family later on. Fanny, the town's midwife had taken pity on the timid wife and had given her away. Tobias had his friends as witnesses._

_Hell broke loose when a weirdly dressed elderly man had come knocking and threatening with a stick the size of half an arm. Tobias had sprung to his feet in defense- ready to punch the light out of him. _

_Surprising all of them, Eileen intervened. The man had finally left yelling "Mudbloods" and "A Blood Traitor and My daughter- henceforth you are cut off from the Prince Family! An utter disgrace in the name of a pureblood witch!" his words had made the new husband shrink away. Tobias had a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach- not only was he burdened with an excuse of a wife but also, she was bringing in no money. His life was thoroughly screwed._

_Indeed, Eileen was a bad omen. Things got worse from the moment she stepped into his house. A week into the marriage Tobias had seen her perform magic right in front of him in his small kitchen. The woman had dropped a stack of freshly washed and dried plates. He had just appeared at the doorway of the kitchen and witnessed the whole thing._

_From within her thin arm sleeves, his trembling wife had brought out a foot-long crooked piece of wood and had muttered a strange set of words. lights had shot out from the tapering end of the wooden stick and had hit the shreds of porcelain fixing the dishes in a blink. _

_Recalling her father's angry words, boiling in anger to have been tricked by her docile and naive attitude, Tobias had walked up to his wife. In a soft voice, he had simply asked, "Did you do magic? Are you a magician?"_

_Eileen had beamed and nodded and then the shy wife had thrown her arms around her husband and had grinned in delight, "Oh! Toby, I am just glad you aren't angry at me. No, I am not a magician, but I do know magic. I am born with it. I am rather good at it. I have also spent seven years at a school learning magic."_

_Waving the stick in front of his eyes, she had proudly declared," This helps me a lot. I have fixed the faulty pipes and the rafters on the roof. Well, muggle things can act up on their own. I swear I didn't intend to blow up the toilet in the process. And the chimney was too old to hold up my magical adjustments. Anyways, we did need to replace both of them. After all, this whole place is already falling apart."_

_Tobias was seething in anger. Who was this woman to pass judgments on his house? She wasn't the one to toil day and night at the factory, in all the heat and deafening sound of machines. He had earned the right to live here. To him, this was heaven compared to his parent's crooked apartment on the other end of the town. Harold Snape's house leaked and dripped round the clock. It even shook like a house of cards if the winds picked up ever so slightly. It smelt of death and disease and had taken away his loving sister's life._

_Compared to that, rows of identical houses at Spinner's End were at least robustly built. Growling like a caged beast, the man had shoved his wife away throwing her against the wall in the process._

_When Eileen had turned at him, in shock and disbelief, he lurched at his young unsuspecting wife determined to kill her then and there. But he couldn't. There was something too honest to ignore her wet soft dark eyes that had him step back after slapping her and jostling her. _

_The girl had fallen at his feet and had hugged his knees. Weeping and hiccuping she had reminded him, "Toby if you don't like it, I won't do it again, I swear to you. I won't for the sake of our son growing inside me, I won't do it. I love you. I truly love you. please forgive me. Tell me, can you forgive me this one time? I wouldn't give you any more reasons to complain." _

_Lying awake on his side of the bed, Tobias had thought hard watching his small wife fast asleep. He couldn't sleep beside her anymore. He was certain he could never bring himself to love a witch, a freak. Then staring down at her flat midriff, he had narrowed his eyes. 'But if the son, by some miracle turned out to be as normal as me...' Tobias had grabbed his pillow and crept out of his bedroom. _

_Settling himself on the living room couch, the man had grudgingly decided to at least give the baby a chance only if he didn't inherit his mother's freaking talents. Maybe in the long run he could acknowledge Eileen as his wife since he felt it was unwise to earn a witch's wrath by throwing her out into the streets or calling their marriage over._

_When Elieen was no longer puking and hogging the toilet every morning, and her stomach was gradually showing, Tobias had started counting the days in agony. Raising a child on a merge salary sounded impossible to him. Yet he didn't wish it to die prematurely like Eli. Yet it so seemed that the providential black clouds had taken up a permanent residence over Cokeworth's fate._

_Rumors spread faster than bushfires that the factory was closing down. Nearly the entire working settlement was worried, waiting for the last gong of the death knell. With the old owner dead, and with new and more advanced automobiles hitting the stores across the country, the making of outdated parts suddenly became redundant._

_The new owners (the seemingly smart sons of the dead one) were willing to move to newer pastures. The factory could die away, they cared the least. Other factories were looking for workers with advanced skills. _

_Frankly, Tobias knew none, neither was he too keen to. He was not too smart, though his sharper features and rough nature and that pointed nose got him enough attention from the ladies of the town. But with a good for nothing wife, around whom weird things were already happening, his luck had finally run down. What more could an evil witch bring along with her but a bad omen._

A scream of a woman broke his reverie. He crossed the lane, opened the front gate, and dropped gracelessly on the steps of his house. Digging into his pockets for his flask, he took a big swig. A wail of a newborn pierced through the night and Tobias muttered to himself, without any warmth and devoid of every ounce of pride- "Happy Fatherhood to me".

* * *

The storm hit the dismal town in full force.

Eileen Snape was exhausted. Her magic was already weakened due to little or no use. Disowned by the family for getting pregnant and marrying a Muggle- she was depressed enough.

The short incident in the kitchen eight months ago had frightened the young witch. Her husband was much older and stronger. If he could manage to hit her so hard, he could even kill her in her sleep. But Tobias had gone quiet and thoughtful right after she had profusely apologized. Unlike any other muggle who would flinch at the mention of magic or the sight of a wand pointed at their face, Tobias's eyes had gone cold and wild.

_The next morning, after Eileen had promised him once again, never to touch her wand and had opted for throwing it in the grate, her husband had stopped her._

"_I don't care about what you do with your stuff. if that piece of wood can keep you alive long enough to deliver my baby, then by all means keep it. I don't wish to see the police coming for me at the factory with the news of your sudden death. Up there, I got a reputation, I don't want you to mess it up for me. Neither do I want to lay my eyes on your scrooge father ever again. The little I saw of him, he acted quite like a mad man. Makes me think, he must have run out of an asylum. So there is always a possibility he would come someday and murder you in a feat of anger." Chewing the ends of his toast the man had spoken as if he was not musing over his own wife's possible murder but was reading out of the morning newspaper._

"_Oh! but he won't do that! Daddy…" Eileen had choked on her words. _

_Arching his brow, Tobias had replied gruffly, "Your daddy darling doesn't look like a doting father. But you do have a chance at winning my love. I say, you better forget about magic and that hogwash and concentrate on that baby instead. I would like to see the face of my healthy babe before deciding to love you at all. Until then, you can live here but remember to stay out of my way. Don't give me a reason to become the killer of an unborn child."_

She had decided then and there if she needed to get Tobias's affection and love- she should stop using magic. Love itself was powerful magic after all. She was more comfortable with portions, something she was sure she would no longer get in Spinner's End. Muggle medicines hardly had much effect on her. But for her husband's sake alone, she was keen to adjust to this new life far removed from the luxuries of Prince Manor.

blinking her eyes the new mother watched the two other women crowding the smallest of bedrooms she had been living in for the past nine months. Fanny, the kind-hearted midwife, her first true friend in this strange muggle town, was beaming with joy as Mrs. Jessica Sommers, her next-door neighbor and she was busy cleaning the baby and finally wrapping him in a fresh white handmade blanket.

Mrs. Sommers was generous enough to get fresh linen to bundle up the newborn since Eileen was thoroughly underprepared to be a new mother. She had also got old baby clothes and sheets.

Finally, helping her sit propped up against the soggy pillows, Fanny handed her the baby. She stared at it, or him, in rapt wonder. He was whitish pink. Mrs. Sommers walked up to the other side of the bed, and wiping off the sweat from Eileen's forehead with a wet piece of cloth, proudly said" He is perfect, ten little fingers and ten ticklish toes."

Fanny gushed wrapping her shawl around her hunched back body, "Of course he is! He's got Tobias's hair and his nose surely. Oh! He definitely goes after his father- this tyke. Come to think of it, it feels like it was only yesterday, I helped the older Mrs. Snape give birth to Toby."

Eileen pretended to be happy and interested in her absent husband's childhood stories, but her eyes were acutely surveying the baby. He was starting to get upset again. Eileen leaned in closer to have a better look. Scrunching his tiny face, the baby finally opened his eyes and whimpered. The mother's eyes locked with that of the child, holding each other's gaze in rapt attention. Dull Black eyes looked into Black Obsidian ones and a little hope started stirring its head in Eileen's miserable heart.

"Nothing was lost as of yet ", she thought, still staring at the baby. "He could be the one from the prophecy. All I need to do is take him to my father and he will know, surely, he will accept us back. All is not lost." She held the child closer still, cheeks touching, and declared softly with a small smile lighting up her rather lifeless face, "My son."

* * *

_A/N: I figured Snape's birth to be dismal and emotionally uncomfortable for both his parents._


	4. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling._

_Not much is mentioned about Severus Snape's early life or birth. So, I am trying to tell it in my own way._

* * *

_**Chapter 3**_

_**Cokeworth, England**_

_**9th January, Year, 1960**_

'_Nothing good came out of the storm. Ever. Period,' _Tobias Snape snarled into his drink. Finally, picking up his mug of beer, he downed it in a large gulp. Harris the Bar-keep watched him from the other end of the counter while pouring fresh drinks for the newest patrons. Settling his tab with dirty crumpled notes, when the tousled haired man with a large red face, glassy eyes, and a prominent nose stood and swayed at his feet, the barkeeper inched his hand closer to the flap door expecting the beginning of yet another nasty brawl. Two weeks ago, Snape had jostled with another drunkard, managing to break a couple of chairs and glasses in the process.

Fights were on the increase as were the sheer number of Cokeworth factory workers who decided to get drunk first and then head home, daily. Though it meant good business for the pub, yet Harris preferred it in shape without broken legs of chairs and tables and shards of glasses to pick before closing up late into the night. It was rather a surprise that Tobias jeered at none but quietly made his way out. Heads turned and several pairs of eyes watched his swaying body for a minute or two, forgetting their drinks altogether.

Only Paul Braker smirked and continued to sip in his beer languidly. His half-burnt cigarette flicked in his other hand. It was the same one Snape broke nearly ten months ago, forcing the middle-aged man to take leave on medical grounds. The management had been reluctant to come to his aid since no one dared to report the incident.

Tobias Snape wasn't a largely built man, he was just uncharacteristically tall and had a thick set of hands and legs. Still, he was too fast for his opponent and too quick with his blows. Moreover, seeing the whole thing had happened outside the factory premises, the higher officers turned a blind eye. Paul wasn't really a law-abiding citizen either. He too had horrible betting and drinking habits and had spent nights in the prison. Thus even the local police took little interest in his pleas. Seething in anger, nursing a badly healed arm, Braker had returned after three weeks, looking for revenge. The news of the latter's quick marriage had reached his ears already. After learning about young Mrs. Snape's pregnancy, Paul could only wish the worst for the Snapes.

Paul worked as the handyman at the factory for nearly three decades. From the very beginning, he had no love for a foul-tempered younger Snape who cared little about keeping the machines in shape and stubbornly argued over every single thing. The sour man slammed his mug down and supplied rather amused," He would not get himself into any trouble today. He is already rolling in his own bog-house."

Harris arched a brow and smirked back in interest, hinting at the other older man to continue.

Chortling back, and then lowering his voice, Paul pretended to share a secret but whispered loud enough for many to hear, "That Dung-head will soon be begging in the streets... I am telling you, it serves him right! That weird lass he married last summer, rumor has it, she comes from a family of nuts... Martin, our grocer, saw Fanny Darling, the midwife, rushing to Spinner's End a while ago. Now, haven't we already heard about Madam Snape is 'expecting' already? Coming morning, we will have a Newer Snape to bother about."

He couldn't hold it any longer and broke into a burst of hearty laughter.

The whole pub thumped their mugs on the dirty tables in dull acknowledgment and quiet celebration. The birth of a baby at Cokeworth was no longer pleasant news. With every family living in identical homes that spoke of neglect, ill health, domestic violence, and poverty, a new member just meant another wailing mouth begging to be fed.

Standing right outside, leaning heavily on the frame of the closed door, Tobias scrunched his face at the sounds coming from the pub and then growled at none particular.

He could no longer keep it all down. Crouching along the sideways, he threw up everything he had just eaten and drank. Wiping his face on his sleeves that smelt of grease and oil, he tried to take deep breaths, determined not to get affected by it.

The men and women walked past him pretending not to take a note of the huge man doubled at the edge of the pavement. _Perhaps, if_ I_ was dead or nearly dying, they would care to crowd around and show me some pity and offer condolences, _he thought grabbing his hair and pulling at it till his scalp tingled with dull pain, _or better continue to ignore me just like this pretending, I don't exist in the first place._ He wasn't asking to be complimented for becoming a father. The very thought sounded close to hearing his own death sentence.

The word father frightened him and he hated becoming another replica of Harold Snape who watched his own daughter die without medical care but never wavered from his principles. Toby's upright father chose to lead life by the Bible much to his son's anguish. Old Snape Senior never took bribes or asked for loans even if his family had little to eat or drink. Toby believed, his father lacked foresight and refused to think about the practical needs of his own dear ones.

Today, staring at the puddle gathered around the edge of the pavement Tobias imagined he was looking at his father's reflection and not his own. He scrambled away and sprang to his feet in a panic. No! Tobias Snape was a proud man, but he was not his father. He might have been a terrible student, but he had managed to study enough to get a job in the factory. More than bookish knowledge and the Bible, the man had grown to lay more emphasis on physical strength, something he had in abundance.

_'Until last spring, I had no plans, other than marry Maggie perhaps and leave Cokeworth for good,'_ He thought, finally walking homewards, mentally ticking off his regular habits back then.

'_Work on the production belt from one whistle to another. Then go play cards with Mart and Douglas in the backyard of Sam's Garage. I also could spend the rest of the evening at Maggie's quarters. Or at other hangouts of young people. Anywhere, where there was loud jolly music, abundant supplies of beer, and an endless line of pretty girls in skirts to dance and flirt with,' _he smiled ruefully.

**And then, **Eileen Prince happened.

Tobias had by now, managed to cross the by-lanes, his boots hitting the little of the gravel path he could see through the fresh layer of snow haphazardly. He held on to a fence to balance himself, taking control of the gagging reflex working up his throat.

Cursing under his breath, the man pulled the lapels of his coat closer and leaned against the freezing wooden planks. He could see the factory chimneys and its corrugated roof from here. Bleak and dull. "Huh! Already standing like the dead," the man chuckled humorlessly. Tilting his head further, he stared up at the dark sky, wondering, 'The storm is finally upon us.' A thunder clapped, but all he could make out was a flash of light. The winds growled and hissed like the demons of Hell.

The pungent smell of the stream, running nearby loaded with factory waste, made him gag again. Passing his hands over his face, the man ruefully thought, 'I could have married Maggie, instead. I could have gone to the big city and work in the shops and earn better. Ah! City life and its many wonders.'

Stokeshire was barely half a day away by train. But to get there, one had to take a mail train from Cokeworth till Trenthill first. From there any up train would take him to the sleepless Stokeshire junction. Tobias had been to Stokeshire once and twice in his lifetime.

His long-dead uncle and his family used to live there. Following his cousins around the city, gawking at the ornate shops and the cinemas, the marketplace, and fancy rows of houses with gardens, the young boy had dreamt of moving to the city after his studies were over.

He had realized his father could offer little money since honest locksmiths could never earn a good salary. So young Toby had saved hard until he had watched his own sister die all of a sudden. Dear Elizabeth looked so serene cocooned inside her small casket that it had broken his heart and shattered his big dreams into pieces. It had taught the brother the hardest of all lessons on life, no amount of money was enough to secure a better future.

The bitter young man had grown distant from his own parents, taking up quarters at Snipper's end after a long-awaited promotion. It wasn't until he had met the vivacious Maggie McDolen, that his old dreams of making it big in life had started resurfacing in his mind. Miss McDolen worked at her cousin's barber-shop, but she desperately wished to go to London and work as a performing artist. Toby was still in his early thirties and had already walked down further into the shady life marked with heavy drinking, relentless partying, and brawling with strangers.

There was something in Maggie's dancing eyes and giggles that made him wish hard against all odds. Cokeworth would never be enough for the gorgeous Maggie McDolen. If he was ever to ask for her hand in marriage, Tobias Snape would have to buckle up and shift to Stokeshire, get a respectable job, buy a house and marry right after that.

_He could have all that if he had not gone impressing a fresh timid girl with shallow skin like porcelain and expensive clothes, eyeing the regular crowd with interest. He thought he had hit a jackpot that night in that pub where they had music. The girl had ready cash inside a weird pouch and she had offered to pay for all the beer. He could not recall how they ended up at Spinner's End later. _

_He did remember pinning the girl against the back of the closed front door and kissing her like a hungry lion. It didn't take a minute for the man to understand the naive girl was new to all this. the very realization had fueled his male ego. _

_Of all the people in England, this rich but unsure lass had picked him to learn how to make love. Heck! The girl was asking for it and he couldn't refuse. Tobias Snape was too glad to please. He had taken his time to disrobe the surprised but eager woman. and had responded adequately each time her fingers, lips, and mouth had managed to arouse him. _

_The worn-out living room couch had proved too small for the two of them and the fire in the hearth close to the floor rug was dying out. Eileen was a fast learner and quite reluctant to let go of the man who had made her see the blissful stars several times through the night already. Her tugging arms and butterfly kisses were enough to encourage the master of the house to carry her up to his bedroom and make love to her lean petite body again and again. _

_Hours later, Tobias had rubbed his fingers over her soft skin and remembered, he didn't even know her full name. Eileen, all red, sweaty, and glowing, had mused back at him, "Its Prince." He made the second and fatal mistake of kissing her gently first on the lips and then on her brow and had whispered, "Nah! You must be a Princess. My Princess."_

_The next morning when he had woken up with a pounding headache, Eileen was nowhere to be seen. He thought perhaps, the whole night was a dream. The only thing that made it feel real- was a long black satin ribbon, tucked below one of the pillows._

_Brushing the whole affair aside, Tobias had gone back to his easy life. A month later, Eileen had surprised him again. She had simply appeared at his doorstep, one evening, knocking at it insistently. Maggie had invited herself earlier and their snogging season was rather rudely interrupted._

_Maggie had been the one to open the door, cursing at the uninvited guest till she caught sight of the trembling girl. She had icily looked up and down a fidgeting Eileen wrapped in a deep green dress that shone under the porch light and then had shot a hard glance towards Tobias saying," So the rumors were true. You did run into a young rich lass. Now, I see she even knows where to find you as well." _

_Grabbing her purse, swinging it over her shoulders, she had sneered at Eileen, "Love you don't seem to know much about this nasty world, do you? Good luck then, you seem to be in need of it." Without turning at Tobias, who was too shocked on seeing Eileen, she hissed, "We are done! Over! Anyways, it wasn't that great anymore." Grabbing her coat from behind the door she had walked past Eileen, pushing the girl hard with her shoulders._

_Tobias had given up on God and religion after Eli's death; he didn't go to church, even if his parents continued to attend the mass every Sunday. But he did fear God. That fear alone had made him accept the cruel fact that seventeen years old Eileen Prince was pregnant with his child and that he should be gentleman enough to marry her. _

'_Eileen seemed rich enough, at least money would not be a problem anymore,' he had reasoned out to himself. They had married quickly. No one from Eileen's side attended. The girl told him they could surprise the family later on. Fanny, the town's midwife had taken pity on the timid wife and had given her away. Tobias had his friends as witnesses._

_Hell broke loose when a weirdly dressed elderly man had come knocking and threatening with a stick the size of half an arm. Tobias had sprung to his feet in defense- ready to punch the light out of him. _

_Surprising all of them, Eileen intervened, "Father, please, I love him, and he loves me as much," turning away from the spatting man wearing robes and pointy hat, the woman clad in white wedding dress had pleaded to her new husband, "Please, Toby, try to understand. Father is just angry right now, but once he has calmed down..." to that man had pushed the daughter hard and had backed away. Shocked, Eileen would have tripped if Tobias hadn't grabbed her and pulled her into his arms._

_The supposed father in law had left yelling "Mudbloods" and "A Blood Traitor and My daughter- henceforth you are cut off from the Prince Family!". Throwing a scathing look at his own daughter then letting his eyes hover on her flat stomach, he had hissed like a vicious snake, "An utter disgrace in the name of a pure-blood witch!" _

_His words had made the new husband shrink away. Thankfully his friends, Fanny and Mrs. Sommers were standing a little apart and couldn't possibly hear what the man had just said. Tobias had a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach- not only was he burdened with an excuse of a wife but also, she was bringing in no money. His life was thoroughly screwed._

_Indeed, Eileen was a bad omen. Things got worse from the moment she stepped into his house. A week into the marriage Tobias had seen her perform magic right in front of him in his small kitchen. The woman had dropped a stack of freshly washed and dried plates. The sound itself had made him hurry down the stairs cursing under his breath. He had just appeared at the doorway of the kitchen and witnessed the whole thing._

_From within her thin arm sleeves, his trembling wife had brought out a foot-long crooked piece of wood and had muttered a strange set of words. lights had shot out from the tapering end of the wooden stick and had hit the shreds of porcelain fixing the dishes in a blink. _

_Recalling her father's angry words, boiling in anger to have been tricked by her docile and naive attitude, Tobias had walked up to his wife. In a soft voice, he had simply asked, "Did you do magic? Are you a magician?"_

_Eileen had beamed and nodded and then the shy wife had thrown her arms around her husband and had grinned in delight, "Oh! Toby, I am just glad you aren't angry at me. No, I am not a magician, but I do know magic. I am born with it. I am rather good at it. I have also spent seven years at a school learning magic."_

_Waving the stick in front of his eyes, she had proudly declared," This helps me a lot. I have fixed the faulty pipes and the rafters on the roof. Well, muggle things can act up on their own. I swear I didn't intend to blow up the toilet in the process. And the chimney was too old to hold up my magical adjustments. Anyways, we did need to replace both of them. After all, this whole place is already falling apart."_

_Throughout her excited chattering, Tobias was seething in anger. Who was this woman to pass judgments on his house? She wasn't the one to toil day and night at the factory, in all the heat and deafening sound of machines. He had earned the right to live here. To him, this was heaven compared to his parent's crooked apartment on the other end of the town. Harold Snape's house leaked and dripped round the clock. It even shook like a house of cards if the winds picked up ever so slightly. It smelt of death and disease and had taken away his loving sister's life._

_Compared to that, rows of identical houses at Spinner's End were at least robustly built. Growling like a caged beast, the man had shoved his wife away throwing her against the wall in the process._

_When Eileen had turned at him, in shock and disbelief, he lurched at his young unsuspecting wife determined to kill her then and there. But he couldn't. There was something too honest about her wet soft dark eyes that had him step back after slapping her and jostling her. Her innocent tears reminded him of Eli, making him halt midway and shudder inwardly._

_The girl had fallen at his feet and had hugged his knees. Weeping and hiccuping she had reminded him, "Toby if you don't like it, I won't do it again, I swear to you. I won't for the sake of our son growing inside me, I won't do it. I love you. I truly love you. please forgive me. Tell me, can you forgive me this one time? I wouldn't give you any more reasons to complain." _

_Lying awake on his side of the bed, Tobias had thought hard watching his small wife fast asleep. He couldn't sleep beside her anymore. He was certain he could never bring himself to love a witch, a freak. Then staring down at her flat midriff, he had narrowed his eyes. 'But if the son, by some miracle turned out to be as normal as me...' Tobias had grabbed his pillow and crept out of his bedroom. _

_Settling himself on the living room couch, the man had grudgingly decided to at least give the baby a chance only if he didn't inherit his mother's freaking talents. Maybe in the long run he could acknowledge Eileen as his wife since he felt it was unwise to earn a witch's wrath by throwing her out into the streets or calling their marriage over._

_When Eileen was no longer puking and hogging the toilet every morning, and her stomach was gradually showing, Tobias had started counting the days in agony. Raising a child on a meager salary sounded impossible to him. Yet he didn't wish it to die prematurely like Eli. A man can only make feeble plans when the gods in heaven are determined to ruin his life. It so seemed that the providential black clouds had taken up a permanent residence over Cokeworth's fate._

_Rumors spread faster than bushfires that the factory was closing down. Nearly the entire working settlement was worried, waiting for the last gong of the death knell to ring. With the old owner dead, and with new and more advanced automobiles hitting the stores across the country, the making of outdated parts suddenly became redundant._

_The new owners (the seemingly smart sons of the dead one) were willing to move to newer pastures. The factory could die away, they cared the least. Other factories were looking for workers with advanced skills. _

_Frankly, Tobias knew none, neither was he too keen to. He was not too smart, though his sharper features and rough nature and that pointed nose got him enough attention from the ladies of the town. But with a good for nothing wife, around whom weird things were already happening, his luck had finally run down. What more could an evil witch bring along with her but a bad omen._

A scream of a woman broke his reverie. He crossed the lane, opened the front gate, and dropped gracelessly on the steps of his house. Digging into his pockets for his flask, he took a big swig. A wail of a newborn pierced through the night and Tobias muttered to himself, without any warmth and devoid of every ounce of pride- "Happy Fatherhood to me".

The man would confess to his conscience alone, he had married Eileen because the sickly pale weeping girl frightened for getting pregnant reminded him of Eli right before her death. And now, he reasoned against the thousand demons of his own mind, 'I can't really hate a baby, Eli won't like seeing me hating an innocent baby." Staring heavenwards, watching the thunderclap somewhere close to the barren waste across the factory, he gulped.

Eli would have wanted to be here tonight. She was the sweetest and dearest person in Toby's life. He remembered holding her wriggling pinkish small body in his arms about sixteen years ago. He remembered the promise he had whispered into the sleeping girl's ears, "I got you. I will keep you safe." But in the end, he had failed her. The very air of Cokeworth was diseased. He couldn't say much about the rest of the flashy houses with manicured lawns and trimmed gardens that lay on the other side of the Park. It looked too perfect to be true. Eli had always wanted to just go there and have a look. Later on, she would dream of living there. But her big brother would keep teasing her asking her to dream big, "Aim for the city Eli, what's there in Cokeworth, nothing! Ah! you were still a baby when we went to Stokeshire...now that is a dreamland I would want to live in once I grow up."

Ninth of January. Of all the dates in the calendar, his child chose this ominous date to see the world. How hard, Toby had fought to forget that number. Eli had died with a childish smile on her bluish lips, her white dress still soaked in her blood. Brushing away his tears, the man stared down at his gloved hands and recalled, how he had continued to wipe off the blood oozing out of the corner of the dead girl's lips, till there was no more left.

* * *

_A/N: I figured Snape's birth to be dismal and emotionally uncomfortable for both his parents._


	5. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**Cokeworth, England**

**9th January, Year, 1960**

The storm hit the dismal town in full force.

Eileen Snape had dropped back on her soggy pillows thoroughly spent. Her mouth felt dry, her throat hurt, and her jaws ached after screaming so hard. Her legs felt like lead, and she could no longer feel the pain that was wrenching out of her protruding belly and ripping apart her hip into two. She wished if someone could have warned her, giving birth the muggle way would be so painful. But she didn't have any plans to get pregnant and married so quickly. Come to think of it, Eileen never had a say about her own life.

Nine months back, for the first time in her miserable life, she had sensed the true meaning of freedom. She had wandered all alone unsupervised among muggles, had got drunk, danced with a man, and finally experienced the joys of lovemaking. One night of freedom had cost her heavily. Perhaps, father was right all along. She was never good enough to be his daughter. Eileen had arrived at Tobias's door, hanging on to that one word, 'Princess'. The man had called her in such a loving tone, that it had broken her into pieces and fixed her back anew.

Eileen grunted and blinked her eyelids, and tried to run her tongue over her chaffed lips. Finally, after months of carrying a growing life within her tender body, she had managed the impossible. She had given birth to a new life. She could hear its wails loud and clear. Encouraged by the hearty sounds, she tried once again to pry open her eyes and take a look at her first achievement in life.

Her magic was already weakened due to little or no use. Disowned by the family for getting pregnant out of wedlock then marrying a Muggle- in these past few months the girl missed her aunt Aida and cousin Iris more than ever. Left alone for most of the day, Eileen would wander around the small house trying to learn how muggles managed to survive without magic.

Mrs. Sommers was her only friend in the neighborhood, the rest of the women folk kept their distance from her. Her shallow skin, thick long jade black hair, and large eyes stood out. The women envied her for her subtle beauty, the men whispered among themselves each time they caught her coming out of the house and the children shrieked and ran away in evident fear. Apparently, even in the muggle society, such hurried up marriages were frowned upon.

But none of that could rob her of the joy of living through all these months and achieving the feat of the most impossible thing. She had become a mother even if the world around desperately tried to smash this shaking house from all sides.

The short incident in the kitchen eight months ago had frightened the young witch to her core. Her husband was much older and stronger. If he could manage to hit her so hard, he could even kill with one blow. But Tobias had gone quiet and thoughtful right after she had profusely apologized. Unlike any other muggle who would flinch at the mention of magic or the sight of a wand pointed at their face, Tobias's eyes had gone cold and wild.

_The next morning, after Eileen had promised him once again, never to touch her wand and had opted for throwing it in the grate, her husband had stopped her._

_"I don't care about what you do with your stuff. If that piece of wood can keep you alive long enough to deliver my baby, then by all means keep it. I don't wish to see the police coming for me at the factory with the news of your sudden death. Up there, I got a reputation, I don't want you to mess it up for me. Neither do I want to lay my eyes on your scrooge father ever again. The little I saw of him, he acted quite like a mad man. Makes me think, he must have run out of an asylum. So there is always a possibility he would come someday and murder you in a feat of anger if they are doing such a poor job at locking him in." Chewing the ends of his toast the man had spoken as if he was not musing over his own wife's possible murder but was reading out of the morning newspaper._

_"Oh! but he won't do that! Father…" Eileen had choked on her words._

_Arching his brow, Tobias had replied gruffly, "Your daddy darling doesn't look like a doting father. But you do have a chance at winning my love and affection I say, you better forget about magic and that hogwash and concentrate on that baby instead. I would like to see the face of my healthy babe before deciding to reciprocate those feelings at all. Until then, you can live here, mind the house, ask for Mrs. Sommers's help if you need it, but remember to stay out of my way. I am not a nice man so don't give me a reason to become the killer of an unborn child."_

She had decided then and there if she needed to get Tobias's affection and love- she should stop using magic. Love itself was powerful magic after all. She was more comfortable with portions, something she was sure she would no longer get in Spinner's End. Muggle medicines hardly had much effect on her. But for her husband's sake alone, she was keen to adjust to this new life far removed from the luxuries of Prince Manor.

Blinking her eyes the new mother watched the two other women crowding the smallest of bedrooms she had been living in since her marriage. Fanny, the kind-hearted midwife, her first true friend in this strange muggle town, was beaming with joy as Mrs. Jessica Sommers, her next-door neighbor and she was busy cleaning the baby and finally wrapping him in a fresh white handmade blanket.

Mrs. Sommers was generous enough to get fresh linen to bundle up the newborn since Eileen was thoroughly underprepared to be a new mother. She had also got along old baby clothes and sheets and had helped her to set up a workable nursery in the spare bedroom.

Finally, helping her sit propped up against the lumpy pillows, Fanny handed her the baby. She stared at it, or him, in rapt wonder. He was whitish pink and was heavy even if he was so small. Her weak hands shook a little, but the child turned and snuggled at her chest and began making sucking sounds. Mrs. Sommers walked up to the other side of the bed and started wiping off the sweat from Eileen's forehead with a wet piece of cloth. The motherly woman proudly whispered, "He is perfect, ten little fingers and ten ticklish toes." The young mother stopped herself from pointing out the rest. This pinkish-white tiny human also had a sharp nose and large ears much like house-elves.

The midwife gushed wrapping her shawl around her hunched back body, "Of course he is! He's got Tobias's hair and his nose surely. Oh! He definitely goes after his father- this tyke. Come to think of it, it feels like it was only yesterday, I helped the older Mrs. Snape give birth to Toby."

Mrs. Sommers tutted at the mention of the grandmother, "Poor Mary, the death of her daughter broke her so badly...I heard now she can't even attend the Sunday mass. Harold still works with Smiths & Sons. But he doesn't wish to do anything with Toby and this family. Even refused to attend the wedding or come down to meet the new daughter in law."

Fanny nodded in sympathy, "All Snape men are too stubborn for their own good. Look at Toby! The lad won't even try to clear it out with his parents. At least Eileen could have had a family to lean on. And Mrs. Snape could brighten up at your presence, Dear Eileen. Now, the first time Toby brought you to me at the dead of the night, I thought, I saw Eli's ghost standing next to him, at my door. I was rather glad to hear, him wanting you to keep the baby and making plans to marry you as well. He might refuse to accept it, but he gets that streak of noble character from his father and also his stubbornness." She made a face and muttered, "Oh! yes, horribly stubborn, our Toby was, even as a gangly wee boy. Now with all this drinking and brawling...Now, once he gets a glimpse of this handsome boy, he will stop all that and straighten up, mark my words. Deep down, he is still the good lad."

Eileen pretended to be happy and interested in her absent husband's childhood stories. She was aware of the other Snape family who lived beyond the factory. She had gathered the courage to express her desire to meet them during her second trimester. She was yet to feel the baby move and Toby's aloofness and his apathy to even sit with her let alone touch her had left her in quiet despair. She had wanted to meet the future grandparents for once. She didn't much care if they closed the door on her face and threw her away, for Eileen was desperate to feel human."A baby, even before it is born, can mend estranged relations," Mrs. Sommers would often suggest, grabbing the weeping girl into her arms and soothing her as she cried her heart out. Fanny told her it was the hormones, but Eileen knew it was more than that. One look at Tobias's hardened eyes from across the dinner table had sealed her mouth forever on that topic.

She kept an ear open to listen to Fanny's reminiscing tales about the many children the midwife had helped to see the world. But her eyes were acutely surveying the baby snuggled in her arms. He was starting to get upset again. Feeling a tug at her racing heart, Eileen leaned in closer to have a better look.

Scrunching his tiny face, he finally opened his eyes and whimpered. The mother's eyes locked with that of the child, holding each other's gaze in rapt attention. Dull Black eyes looked into Black Obsidian ones and a little hope started stirring its head in Eileen's miserable heart.

"Nothing was lost as of yet", she thought, still staring at the baby. "He could be the one from the prophecy. All I need to do is take him to my father and he will know, surely, he will accept us back. All is not lost." Her heart thudded hard within her chest and she swallowed roughly at the endless possibilities in which her life could finally turn brighter. She held the child closer still, cheeks touching, and declared softly with a small smile lighting up her rather lifeless face, "My son."

Fanny chuckled at that, "Feels wonderful, doesn't it? Did you two think of a name?"

The new mother looked up blankly. She couldn't tell them, neither Tobias nor she ever had a civil conversation, let alone sit together and hunt for a suitable name. She wasn't even sure she was going to give birth to a son. It was Fanny alone who had planted that idea in her head.

But Mrs. Sommers understood. Coming to the girl's rescue the middle-aged woman hurried the midwife out of the room muttering quickly, "Fanny honestly! Let these two rest. And you do know Toby, don't you? He is never good with names and sorts. That tyke is not running away either. Eileen and Toby will think of something good now won't they?"

Eileen nodded in a daze when Mrs. Sommers looked at her from over Fanny's shoulders. Then added in a shaking voice, "Oh, yes. We will. Definitely decide on a name now that he is finally here." Lifting the wrapped up child the mother hugged it and sighed inwardly when Fanny beamed back and left. Mrs. Sommers smiled softly, "You did well Eileen. Now it's best to take a day at a time. Just concentrate on this bundle of joy for now. I will take a quick peep into the nursery then see Fanny off. I think I heard the front door open a while ago."

Taking in the way, Eileen's eyes grew wide at that, she soothed her, "Oh! dear, remember what I told you before. Toby can look harsh, but he does have a heart. He won't harm a handsome baby like this one, neither will he get angry with you. I had already sent a word at the factory to let him know the baby was on his way. Now, you know how overwhelming this whole thing is for him, don't you? Just talk to him kindly. I know you are a sweet girl. Just stay calm, okay? The storm will bother the young one, I suggest you keep him close to you for the night. And if you need anything at all, just give me a shout."

When the new mother jerked her head in reply, the older woman smiled back with a pained look and stepped out of the room closing the door quietly behind her back.

* * *

**Dragon's Kelp, Appalachian Mountains**

**Mid January, 1960**

'Sol-ari, fret not, maybe the end is just a beginning or it's the beginning itself that will help us to put an end to all of this,' the same voice echoed in her head which by now had become her personal means to solace.

Solveig rolled her eyes thinking Naireen and all the other dragons of the Kelp had this fixation to speak in riddles and most of them sounded like a big fat snake trying to bite its own tail. For once if the familiar could simply say, 'the journey to reach to the very end has begun at last,' but no, these ancient magical beasts chose to hold on to their individuality to the last dot.' She would always remember the first time she had heard that deep motherly voice caressing her young mind and soothing away her worries.

The old woman was not born at the Dragon's Kelp, to begin with. Before her tenth birthday, Solveig was blissfully unaware of the true origins of her family. She thought magic and dragons were figments of her father's imagination, even if he made them seem so real.

Every afternoon the family would gather around a makeshift bonfire and her father, Eric Kolel-buck, the finest carpenter of the village would bring out his harp and sing bard songs. Clinging on to her mother Frida, the little girl with waves of blonde hair would imagine giants beasts dancing in the high flames of the fire.

Sol's small world revolved around her loving parents and her dear friend, Isobel. She was born in a quiet but merry village called Borgetree nestling in the heart of small hillocks and flanked by an icy stream that froze in the winter. Isobel was nearly ten years older than her and allowed the tiny tot to follow her around, a privilege Solveig cherished the most.

_Around her sixth birthday, Isobel eloped and a letter from across the great ocean forced Little Solveig to bid farewell to her idyllic life. Her parents had started on this remarkable journey which involved crossing mountains, riding horse carriages, and trains and finally sailing on a huge ship with three bellowing chimneys that sent thick black steam into the blue sky. _

_Solveig wasn't the one to complain but the first sight of her new home did dampen her high spirits. The Teeth from the magical harbor did look eerie and mysterious. over the head of the large trees of the dense forest, the grey-white structure looked like the jaws of some dead animal. But from inside, the whole settlement wore this shroud of moaning. _

_The little girl had stuck to her parents' side, self-conscious of all the eyes seeking her alone. People would point at her and speak in hushed whispers. Many bowed to her or simply made way for her, staring at her with frightened eyes. The men and women who had the honor to sit close to her Uncle, the Kelp Hand, Darun Kolel-Buck too watched her from under their lashes. _

_In those initial uncomfortable days, when strangers curtsied to her and simpletons gave her gifts, when the council regarded her apprehensively as if waiting for her to make some mistakes, Hormer Kolel-Buck had been the first one to stick out his hand and express his deepest desire to be her friend. Brom Kolel-Buck was then a wee baby still suckling to his mother's bosom._

_Hormer Kolel-Buck was supposed to be her uncle, but he had made a sour face at the mention of it and had passed her a cream roll saying, "Better Gul-Vilt feast on my bones! Never again think or dream of calling me, Uncle, understood?" __Shuddering visibly, the tall boy had narrowed his large eyes and pursed his lips, "Are you planning to call Brom uncle as well?"_

_Sol had sputtered realizing how embarrassing it would become if she was going to call a mere baby Uncle. _

_Hormer had laughed at her and patted her head affectionately, "Can't tell you much if Lil Brom would mind if you call him Uncle or not. But I," thrusting his thumb at his chest, he emphasized, " Don't wish to turn into some old and swooping and coughing and heaving and spitting old man with no tooth, like Simson, our retired cook. Young and old all call him, Uncle Sim, Imagine that! Nay, I got to man a ship and see beyond the Mist. I heard you came from the other side! So Solveig, tell me right away, what is it like?"_

_Solveig had giggled at his genuine interest and had told him about her experiences at the sea. In return, Hormer had shown her around the Teeth and had stuck to her side when the family had visited Haermlock Gallows three fortnights after. Hormer knew everyone and all chose to leave Solveig to herself knowing fully well, when angry, Hormer Kolel-Buck was a force to reckon with, even if he was just an adolescent boy. _

_He was the first one to tell her about the secret creatures living miles below the Great Wall. Solveig had seen those giant clouds dashing across the sky but her excited friend was quick to correct her, "Oh dear Gul Vilt! of course, you can't see them! you need to be inducted into the family first. I can't tell you everything, it is a well-guarded secret. But I can of course show you my picture books. It has moving pictures of every dragon species ever sighted by dragon herders."_

_Solveig had hung on to his words as a bee stuck inside a honey jar. Hormer had continued chattering, "Do you know why all the people stare at you oddly?"_

_The girl had replied in a small voice feeling embarrassed with herself, "I wish I did."_

"_Now, there is nothing to be ashamed of! Everyone is wondering about you. It seems you are the Chosen One, yet you haven't done any magic of your own. Father says everything happens in its due time. Even if aunt Nara…" he grew a little sad, but quickly added, "the fact is you are a witch, or else you won't have been able to enter Dragon's Kelp and live along with us."_

"_I see." Solveig scrunched her brows and mulled over this new piece of information._

_Hormer carried on, satisfied to have such an attentive listener, "Children who are born at the Kelp can see them right away, hear their roar as well. Even people in the Gallows can see and hear them. But to others who come from the outside world, they seem to look like giant clouds dashing across the sky while in full flight. Invisible in plain sight. Incredibly wicked magic!"_

_It was true she couldn't see any of those other dragons when as a part of her eleventh birthday gift, the dwellers of the Dragon's Kelp had taken her down into the cave guarded by the golden gates. But she wouldn't lie to herself even today, for Solveig hadn't flinched, or neither did she faint at the sight of Naireen. Yes, she could see her much like she could see her mother and father and Hormer and Uncle Darun standing next to them. _

_By now, she knew every one of her family could perform magic, even her parents. Though, Eric had explained, "There is a difference Sol between an ordinary wizard carrying a wand or performing wandless magic and a dragon herder wizard or a dragon rider. It calls for greater powers to simply get close to such magnificent beasts. It is not something to show off like circus carnivals or fair tricks. It is sacred and pure. Sol, it is an honor to be born into the Old Clan. Old Magic runs through our veins. And since it is assumed to be dying, your mother and I chose to bring you up in a new world among witches and wizards and muggles. We didn't give up on magic. We did perform it on rare occasions, keeping in mind the __International Code of Wizarding Secrecy. Yes, Sol, we hide from the muggles who, until the last century hunted and killed us.__ Well, we had more reasons to hide of course. The wizards and witches are afraid of dragons. They still don't understand that our blood encourages these giant beasts to declare themselves as our familiar. We don't need to imprison them or tame them against their will. Sol, it was foolish of me to think I could give you a quiet life. You were destined for greater things all along. It is an honour to be the last Chosen One. Embrace your responsibilities and this new life with open hands."_

_She had just confessed to all the shocked elders gathered at the last couple of steps which went down to the Drake Matre's huge nest, while stepping closer to the fierce beast, "Oh Lord! so all this is true! they aren't just dreams? I swear I saw you every night. But in my dreams, you were flying and dodging burning flames of a great fire?" The beast was very much alive and had been watching her walk closer through hooded eyes. _

_Tilting her head a bit the girl had eyed the azure and burgundy dragon with interest, muttering to herself, "And you were crying and calling out my name. But I was right there on your back. I was riding you. but you just couldn't hear my screams. The dreams would always end like that. I would keep yelling but you couldn't hear a single word."_

_Her uncle had walked up and guided her out of the dragon's nest. No one had replied to her frantic questions. Even Hormer had looked at her with a hurt expression, "Sol, Am I not a friend trustworthy enough? Fancy why you never thought of mentioning your dreams to me, when I had spent hours doing nothing but talking about dragons to you."_

_Later as she had cried on her bed, feeling odd and frustrated in this secluded place, she had heard the deep velvety voice of Drake Matre, "Fret not, I am more than keen to answer your endless questions but for that, you have to earn my respect Lil Maiden. More than you, it's I who is eager to see the day when you will be prepared enough to ride me."_

_"But I have not performed any magic? I am not a witch!" the girl had hissed back, still unaware that now she was speaking in her mind and not yelling aloud._

_"Fair Maiden, you need to be magical in order to see me in your dreams, acknowledge me physically, and then talk to me through this mental bond. You have performed the highest form of magic without crumbling under the strain. Your elders can't give you answers because even they are failing to wrap their minds around this peculiar event. Now, Sleep dear." Naireen's voice reassured._

_On her seventeenth birthday, Solveig had to give up her Kolel-buck surname and embraced her dead aunt Nara's name instead, though she was allowed to keep her mother's title as well. She had missed Hormer that day. Her best friend had died mysteriously two summers ago, while she had gone to attend a short course at Salem._

_Keeping the face of Hormer in mind, standing in front of the Drake Matre of the Dragons of the Kelp she had pledged, "Under the ever-burning sun and the glowing moon, I swear in front of the ancient souls of Gul Vilt's House to be henceforth be known as "Solveig Marit Kolbeck", the sole rider of Naireen, the Head of the council of Dragon's kelp, the Matre of all magical life. From this day, I wed myself to the cause of bringing the prophecy to its fulfillment. and never shall I weaver from my path. From this instant, I choose to dedicate and bind my magic and soul to guard both the Kelp and the Gallows and give my life to protect Gul-Vilt's Treasure." _

_Naireen had put her to the final test then. All the dragon species had gathered in her nest. Surrounding Solveig draped in ceremonial attire, they breathed fire on her. Instead of getting burnt, she glowed like a star as she felt the power of their ancient magic engulf her. She had seen ghostly images of their former riders and had felt delirious when she had recognized several of the brave men and women whose tales of adventures had kept her company through many nights._

_Naireen had stepped forward. Bowing low, she had gestured at the golden white straddle on her back and had expressed her deepest desire, "Oh Kelp Matre, grant me my wish, be my rider till the end of our Sun and I shall grant you a wish in turn."_

_Even as she maneuvered herself on the high scaled back of the giant beast, the young woman was nervous with giddy excitement, "I am going to ride the most ancient dragon of the world. I am going to be her dragon rider. No longer do I have to practice with wooden contraptions."_

_Naireen had lunged upwards. Flapping her giant wings, the beast had shot out through the opening far up the cylindrical cave. When they had reached the sky, leaving the Kelp, the mountains, and the sea far below and glazed through the white clouds, Solveig had realized the dragon of her dreams had truly in all sense of the term accepted her as her human companion. _

_As part of their magical agreement, Naireen had granted her last wish by allowing her to finish her studies at Salem and return to the Kelp for good. _

But neither the Drake Matre nor Solveig had dreamt of the arrival of a young wizard at the prestigious school, whose short-lived presence in Solveig's life would leave behind such a long-lasting imprint.

The mosaic portrait of Naireen's human form could still be seen shining against the wall of the last landing leading to the largest nest at the bottom of the catacomb of the cave system.

The markings below glinted in the torch lights, "Niyre henceforth be called Naireen. She vows to bear the spirits and pledges of Kolbuck the Loyal Friend and Aireen his pious wife. Below the ember, the fire shall continue to burn until its time comes."

Far into the night, Solveig sighed and fiddled with the ends of her blanket. Lying on her side, she shivered a little. Her bed was warm but she could not ignore a chilling dread making its way to her heart. Even the much somber half-moon peeping through the solitary bay window of her cozy bedroom could not fight away the wariness that was keeping her awake.

Raymond Rossier was the local teacher responsible for educating children till they turned older enough to apply for Dragon Handler apprenticeship. Samuel Marit on the other hand was the trader and rustic banker catering to both the Teeth and Gallows business. Both of them had arrived on horseback a little before noon.

Solveig's mother's maiden name was Frida Marit-Ross Kolbi. She was maternally tied to the Marit clan and her father was a distant grandfather of Raymond. Before dying, Frida had made her daughter promise her, she should try to look for Isobel, "Sol, my child, Marits and Rossiers are cousins of Ross... and these three never abandon their own blood kin. Find her even if you might have to tear the earth open. She will need you as much as you will need her. You got all the bloodlines of the guardians of Gul- Vilt's treasure running in your veins. You must take care of your own people."

Each time when the Kelp mistress happened to meet Samuel and Raymond together, she took note of how much they looked like her mother, once she had managed to ignore their tanned and scored skins. Rossiers were distinguished by their broad forehead while the Marits were recognized by their sharp cheekbones and pointed chin.

Hours later, when they rode away down the long hairpin cobbled road, Solveig watched them with a heavy heart. She knew she couldn't provide them with the answers they were looking for.

Since the Great Fire, it was believed that the people of the Gallows, who once happened to be extraordinary wizards, were cursed for generations together.

Returning to her office, she had taken out The Elder's Scrolls and had gone through the pages once again. It had mentioned it in long faded cursives, _"Slowly, their magic would wither away to nothing. Their fame would turn to dust and they would have to survive as an unfortunate lot perhaps a little better than Squibs. There was a chance of redemption, of course, the fulfillment of the Prophecy."_

She missed the quiet presence of Walking Ghost, Cazut, the most. Obviously, they would call him that. Against the rusty scored skin of the Gallowers, Cel Cazut's sickly pale skin stood out like an eyesore.

_'Sol-ari. Woolgathering again are we?'_ the voice in the back of her mind chuckled again.

'_Must you jest and riddle at an hour like this! Every muscle of my body is aching with either being hunched over old maps or dusty tomes or sitting on hard hall benches for long hours mulling over statements and debates made during today's wretched gathering… I can hardly make any head or tail of these issues, and it is far worse because every single one of these people is depending on me and my godforsaken wisdom! I hardly remember the meals I had today- or if I had any at all,' _she snapped back.

Peals of laughter echoed back and a mirthful voice retorted,_ 'Sol-ari, like I said, don't fret, we got an ally.'_

Sighing deeply, Solveig smiled,_' Yes, Cel Cazut. If you really think it is time, then we can put the young man to test.'_

'_Naireen?'_

'_Yes?'_

"_At least no one is dying this time around, that's a relief indeed. Last time, before I took my vow, too many innocent lives were lost. their untimely deaths still remain unsolved,"_ the witch exhaled deeply.

"_Don't think they were murdered either, Sol-ari. Their magic chose to join the great forces that guard every magical soul residing here. They sacrificed themselves willingly to buy you more time." _

Sitting up straighter, Solveig's eyes widened as she thought back hurriedly, _"Are you suggesting that all of it stopped as soon as I took the pledge? Hormer, Uncle and father, all of them died because of Me!"_

"_Think again," _her familiar scolded her,_ "Think Solveig, go over what all I have been telling you about the protective magic that prevails over the Kelp and its surroundings. Think girl!"_

"_The protective wards feed onto our magic. The fact that we give it away willingly works in our favor. The souls of our ancestors guard the mountain and the souls of dead magical creatures guard their kinds. But around Aunt Nara's time, the magical core had faltered, at least that's what Uncle Darun believed. The gallowers had failed to channel their magic through their wands. Are you suggesting that as a last resort to keep the core intact, Magic itself had fed extensively on some of the Kelp dwellers?"_

"_Old Magic is never destructive Sol-ari. She is just like Mother Nature. She calls back only those souls to herself who are faithful but are deemed to suffer a painful but slow death. Magic is waning away, in order to save the Kelp, people sacrificed themselves. People died back then before their time to aid the Magic as well as give you enough time to prepare."_

"In one way, it was a sacrifice, made on my behest?"Solveig whispered blankly.

"_Yes. Does it frighten you after all these years?"_ her familiar continued to speak in her mind.

The witch sat motionless for a long time, studying her own shadow falling across the wall pensively. She tried to remember Hormer and Uncle Darun. There was a time when she had developed a tiny little crush for Hormer and then got all embarrassed with herself. Hormer would proudly introduce her to every new Handler Apprentice then pull them aside, out of her earshot and warn, "Now, listen here, Mate. You have already heard the rumors about Sol. Yay, Yay, she is the Chosen One. But here is a thing, try to get too chummy with her and I will break your bones, before dragging you like a sack of potatoes up to my father. Sol is a sister, I wish I had. Do I make myself clear? No funny business!"

Now, apart from their portraits hanging in the Kolel-buck families' personal quarters, she couldn't recall the other minute details. She tried to remember the sound of Hormer's boisterous laughter or her Uncle's booming voice that could instantly manage to catch the attention of a hall packed to the brim. But her memories had faded with time, and she couldn't even bring herself to mourn over it.

"_Honestly speaking, I feel more determined to see the end to all this," _Solveig sighed, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palm till she saw stars behind her eyelids.

"_Sol-ari, aren't we all waiting for the same thing…"_ her familiar's voice echoed in her mind with a hint of sadness shadowing the words.


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

Chapter 5

Dragon's Kelp, Appalachian Mountains

January 1960

Solveig Marit Kolbuck smirked at her reflection on the mirror, over her mantle "Uncle would often say, 'Time flies away like a shooting arrow.' Fifteen years ago, Cel Cazut came to the Gallows determined to pay for the crimes of his forefathers. While everything else changed over the years, he remained constant, full of self doubt yet a prolific researcher, translator, highly skilled potioneer, and perhaps the only one capable enough to duel with the twin needlepoint knives. If anyone was to meet him today and learn, he grew among the gypsies, they would call it a bluff."

Following the traditions of the Kelp, the young man had started calling her Matre. Over a period of time, he had grown upon her, much like any other family member.

Despite his odd accent and ghostly features, Rohirim Cel Cazut was quite a man to work with. The first time, Isobe Rossier, head of herb gatherers from the Gallows had mentioned of a rather skinny man seeking shelter at the dismal settlement, people thought he was cracking a joke.

None of the past generation Kolbucks were alive. Her ailing mother was the only one around. Solveig was only five years into being the Appointed Mistress Handler of the Kelp. Therefore, the news was marginally shocking since the desolate Gallows was no longer charming and thrilling to live on.

Dry and barren but for the small patch of magically constructed herb garden- Gallows was no more a place where life thrived. It was where Death walked freely. Apart from the magical herb garden and a few houses, the whole place bore the look of a disturbing black and white photograph of a haunted town. Old dilapidated structures sprouted from here and there suggesting here indeed once lived the powerful families of Blakes and Pryensos, both feared and revered for their ability to perform extraordinary magic.

After sunset the townfolks preferred to stay indoors or stick together, for to this day, they believed, the forsaken souls of the disgraced ancestors lived in the shadows and mourned in unison under the night sky. Their constant keening could be heard if one was listening to the whispering winds. The old broken walls, collapsed pillars, and the flagged stone below the feet were as dark as soot. This alone reminded every sulking Gallower about the Great Fire and justified their collective misfortune. It added fuel to their own promises made by every generation through eons together, to work with the Kelp dwellers and see to the fulfillment of the Ancient Prophecies.

The joke that Isobe Rossier helped to circulate had underlying meaning though. Solveig realized it a week later when a very tall, skinny, shallow skinned and bone-dry man with odd clothes merely hanging from his shoulders was shown into her office. She could now understand each and every word of the very intelligent and witty Isobe. "Our Gallows townsfolk now have a WALKING GHOST of their own. This one came by sea."

Nothing seemed alive in Rohirim Cel Cazut, but for his deep jaded black eyes. After initial greetings, the two sat surveying each other for a long time, tea and titbit sparsely touched between them. Finally, breaking that uncomfortable silence, Cel Cazut, in a deep baritone voice said, "I come in peace, to pay for the crimes of my forefathers".

He then shifted the left lapel of his dark grey robe turning it inside out. Solveig merely controlled her gasp. A red-eyed small Raven brooch glittered slightly when the noontime sun rays managed to chance upon it. The young man immediately righted his clothes, sitting straighter as if waiting for the storm to come.

"I understand you could be related to either the Pryensos or the Blakes since you carry the brooch. The fact that you wear it hidden inside your lapel, tells me, you are aware of the families' joint disgrace." She paused waiting for the other to confirm. He sat silent like stone alabaster. Only his eyes flickered with life. If Solveig was not looking at him in rapt attention she would surely have missed the quick curt nod. Satisfied with that affirmation, she continued. "I can assume, I am the first person to whom you are revealing your true identity and your intent. Must I suppose that you are having deeper motives as well?"

The young man did not shift under the older woman's farther intense scrutiny and had quite confidently replied," if I am allowed to stay, we both will benefit from it."

All throughout this unique conversation, Solveig was having her personal debate with Naireen.

"Sol-ari keep him."

Only once before did her dragon familiar sounded this serious. It was a long time ago, she was still in her early twenties and had done the worst thing to any man she had ever met. She had broken his heart. Even saying his name was a tedious task, but she could remember every bit of it. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. The wizard who was a proud human companion of the most feisty phoenix she had the honour to meet.

* * *

Cokeworth, England

January, 1960

The factory workers still congratulated him, but none came by and paid the family a visit bearing gifts. He knew they were apprehensive of his wife. He knew behind his back, they called her a witch. He didn't lash out either. in his own mind, he knew what she was. Watching the baby suckling at the young mother's bosom, the distant father would look away in disgust.

Nearly every night, after Eileen would fall asleep, the father would creep into the nursery and watch the baby sleep in his bassinet. There was no doubt it was his son, yet, the man could never dare to touch. Something ominous would always hang in the air around the boy.

But today, he found the child awake and staring back at him. It didn't cry out or wailed for his mother, as if it knew him and was aware of his foul temper. For a couple of seconds, the father had panicked. Peering back into the landing he had made sure the bedroom door was still closed shut.

Stunned by the piercing pairs of small eyes, he shuddered and backed out of the room, promising himself he would never dare to touch it. Tobias Snape knew, the boy might have his features, yet he was quite like his mother. A freak.

Sitting on his couch in the shabby living space, the man remembered that night when the son he never wanted in the first place was born.

_He finally gathered enough courage to come indoors, when he was sure he could no longer hear the new mother screaming or the baby wailing. He blamed the storm for driving him back to his personal hell. After stalling in the kitchen for a long time, he slowly made his way up the sparsely lit rickety stairs. Fanny came out of the spare room that was to become the nursery, and offered him a bright smile, "Congratulations boy, you are a father now to a healthy son"._

_Tobias could barely hold his emotions together. He all but wanted to lash out. Instead, he pursed his lips tight and bobbed his head up and down. Fanny's smile fell slightly. But the man was spared from embarrassing questions by Mrs. Sommers, who came out of his bedroom, locking the door behind her. She gave him a hard stare, scrunched her nose up, and swiftly ushered the old midwife past him and down the stairs._

_The drunk man was still standing at the landing half dazed from all the alcohol running through his veins when Mrs. Sommers made her way back. She leveled herself to his height and said, "Listen to me Tobias Snape, you will go and freshen up, then get inside that room and be good to your wife and son. That girl is half scared to death. You don't have to bother, I have paid the midwife, consider it a gift to your son." With a curt nod, she swiftly went down the stairs once more and out of the house finally._

_Tobias was fuming with anger, "Some girl, she is a bloody witch and now has saddled me with that wretched…" He crossed the landing in three long strides and banged open the door to the bedroom._

_Eileen was sitting on the bed, trying hard not to flinch at his presence, protectively holding the baby close to her heart. In a quivering voice, she urged," It's your son, he is just like you."_

_In a cold tone, Tobias asked, flicking his eyes at the bundle, the only eyesore pristine white in the grey and dim-lit room, "Is it so?" His wife pressed her back against the headboard._

_Grinding his teeth, he said, "I can throw you out right now, but I need a keep to take care of the baby and to cook a proper meal, something you absolutely lack". Chewing his words harder, he added, "Someone to tidy the house as well. And! I was not a silver spoon feeding baby like you, Princess," he spat out the last word. "So, here is my deal- You get to stay because you come without a price. Since you chose to come without a dowry as well, learn up, and quickly, how to be a good wife. Mind you, keep that whelp quiet or else you will be sorry."_

_With that, he left the room banging the door shut._

The sweating man whispered into the freezing night air, " I try everyday, to bring myself to love her or him, but there is also something in those pitch black eyes of that baby that frightens me. He is evil, I know, he is. He knows me more than I do, I am certain of it, he can read my mind. Those eyes, there is nothing innocent about them. They are ferocious and severe."


	7. Chapter 6

Introducing the other Magical World existing along with JK's HP world. They both will intertwine with each other, throughout the series. I decided to rewrite the Love Empowered Empathy story into this new one. This time around, I am planning to finish it. I could have taken down the entire thing, but I didn't wish to lose those valuable reviews.

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**Dragon's Kelp, Appalachian Mountains  
**_January, 1960_

Naireen, the oldest dragon to live in the Dragon Kelp was the sterner version of her Witch Rider. The Norwegian Ridgeback Dragon was among the very first ones to arrive from the Isles-The-Ocean-Hid. After the Great Fire, never again could she gather the courage to fly over the Mist that separated the mountains and the Kelp from the roaring oceans.

The young dragons would come and share their adventurous tales. For their sake alone she would hear through their experiences, dispassionately. She couldn't quite tell them that those myths about the Dearc Mordor were real. The cursed abomination of that Evil Witch still awaited for the prophecy to fail, for the Kelp and the Gallows to lose their magical resources. She was still as greedy as the day, Naireen had looked at her, standing arrogantly beside her mated husband, eyeing Gul Vilt with odd appreciation.

'_No, she must never return. The prophecy must come true. Generations have given their blood and magic to see to it that Gul Vilt will one day rise again_,' she hissed in frustration, her breath scorched a part of the curved ceiling.

She was aware that the potioneer's familiar had failed to tolerate the magical energies and had all but fled the Kelp Mistress's quarters. Memories of the fateful day flooded back, the Dragon Matriarch purred with satisfaction.

Fifteen years ago, she had sensed the rare magic of the man they had called the Walking Ghost. Sol-ari was wary of the newest arrival at the Gallows. But Naireen could tell, he carried an old soul. She had simply ended their raging volley of sharp responses on the credibility of the young man and had gone too quiet for comfort. She could see everything happening inside Solveig's office through their mental connection.

_Solveig had hardly got her thoughts together once more, when a bony hand with ash white knuckles and knobby fingers had held over a rather ancient journal whose pages were hanging loose from the seams. The very proof of Rohirim Cel Cazut identity, parentage, and his birthright to reside at Haelmrock Gallows was staring up from the pitch-black cover of the journal. Inside an intricate ring of laurel wreath, a pair of Ravens, one a little smaller than the other, sat staring at each other in deep contemplation._

_She had taken hold of the journal with a slightly shaky grip, and looked up at the withdrawn man in bewilderment. The younger occupant of the room was now standing on his feet, head bowed in respect," I would like to leave now, if you would permit, that is. Madam Rossier would be waiting for my return and I presume, it would be disrespectful on my part to keep Mister Rossier waiting any longer since he must have finished his errands at your establishment by now."_

_Solveig had managed to reply, "Yes I know, Madam Rossier is quite punctual about keeping mealtime. And it is an hour-long trek downhill." Then gesturing to the journal in her hand, she had started, "But this…" Young Cel Cazut had cut her off, "Madam, I would like to leave it with you to help you get a better grip at the situation. Meanwhile, I will eagerly wait at the Rossier Establishment, looking forward to your positive reply."_

Naireen had rolled her eyes, from her nest far below the Kelp settlement, _Even a toddler could see, how out of her depths Sol-ari was acting._

* * *

**_End of January 1945_**

The man had left the room as noiselessly as he had entered it. Once alone, Solveig had finally managed to breathe. Her fingers ran over the faded silver embossed personal crest of the young Daemon Pyrenso, youngest son of Borge Pyrenso and younger brother of Meynard Pyrenso. These names had become myths and legends, but now her doubts were taking stronger roots than ever. The silver shone proud and firm, as regal as the day it was first imprinted against the black leather made of dragonhide. An example of excellent craftsmanship of the old days.

_"Sol-ari, you are brave enough to open it, or so I thought" _a mock rebound in her mindscape.

_"With no disrespect meant, Oh! Shut it now, will you!" _the witch huffed back.

Giving herself a mental shake, and strengthening her nerves, Solveig had flipped the cover and had immediately stood up, toppling her chair backward. Her hands were over her gaping mouth, her eyes wide in shock, she could only manage two words, "Oh! Gul Vilt!"

On dusty old parchment paper, the same personal crest of Daemon Pyrenso was staring up, but little altered. Instead of the known crest, which she had just seen over the cover, this one only had the smaller raven staring up out of the aged paper. His entire demeanor was that of a lonesome and orphaned boy. The laurel wreath around was equally forlorn and withered. The place where the older Raven should have been, was empty. The edges of the crest on that part were jagged. As if the bird was roughly ripped off. But that was not all. She found four lines below the crest, written with ornate handwriting in Old Language. If translated roughly if would mean-

_"__**To brothers who are to step into adulthood,**_

_**I present these twins,**_

_**Write to one and the other will echo,**_

_**For brothers you shall remain till the end of time."**_

A crest stamped in green wax sat proudly below it. This one was more like the shape of a shield, with three raven heads looking at three different directions. Below the raven heads on a darker shade of green the words stood out proudly, "jkanan le pureza". If you roughly translate, that would mean- "Guardian of Purity". This one was far more famous than that of the crest above. For, this one was the crest of the head of the Blake family. This only could mean two things- this journal was a gift to Daemon Pyrenso by his uncle Hereweald Blake, brother of the infamous Hydriana Blake Pryenso. Its other twin journal was likewise gifted to Meynard, his older brother. Back in those days, such expensive presents were made only in times when the young ones got betrothed. And marriage was the final stage to cross into adulthood.

Though the January chill was biting enough, Solveig was sweating profusely.

She struggled to think up a proper sentence_, "Naireen, what does this mean…?"_

An equally thoughtful voice echoed back_, "That a lost piece of a fading puzzle saw its way back to where it all began."_

The very next morning Cel Cazut was sharing a rather large spread of breakfast with Matre Solveig, considering the appropriate site to start his apothecary of potions and remedial alternatives. He would soon begin to even build a small quarter behind the shop, which he was going to call "Cazut Cazan".

Solveig couldn't help but ask over their sixth round of refreshments, "Interesting! Does it really have to rhyme?

The dour man had smirked only once, supplying, "It means Fallen Cauldron."

* * *

**_End of January 1960_**

Flicking her tail, rubbing her belly over the crushed hay and warm stones, Naireen purred and thought harder, considering and reconsidering her options, _'The familiar fails to tolerate the ancient magical energies, yet the potioneer wanders around the catacombs unaffected. I know he has sensed it. Much around the same time as Solari was aware of them, yet, yet how and why. There must be three ravens, three of them must arrive. This is happening too fast, faster than I had anticipated. But Naireen, the downside of all prophecies are they are often miscalculated. Well, not really, not always, no, NO, NO! I am perhaps getting too old. But Gult Vilt waits for me. He is depending on me. I can't say a thing to Sol-ari. Not yet, not when I am so confused. I wonder what the Corvus Witchmen saw in the boy. Perhaps, just perhaps that phoenix tamer could be of some help. I swear by the name of Gul Vilt, I don't quite like the thought of it. I don't believe I would say such a thing, but Time is of great essence here. That Pheonix tamer was also a conqueror of the Mind, but he was not selflessly pure either."_


	8. Chapter 7

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.  
Not much is mentioned about Severus Snape's early life or birth. So, I am trying to tell it in my own way.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**_Wigmore, England  
January 1960_**

Eileen Snape had slipped away from her dismal Cokeworth house, walked through the bylanes, till she had reached the overgrown deserted field, sparsely covered with dirty snow, overlooking the Cokeworth factory. Dressed in her magical robe and the only other forest green dress she had with her under it, her neglected wand tucked in one of the pockets, she still looked frail and weak. Luck was in her favor, for it was afternoon, and those at home were either relaxing or taking a much-needed nap. The menfolk were all secluded in their workplace. A sound of a 'crack' later Eileen had apparated with a sleeping couple of weeks old baby tucked in her arms. Only Mrs. Sommers was aware that she had gone to see her "displeased and hurt" parents.

Mrs. Sommers had tried to talk sense into the girl. She had reminded her again and again when the girl had brought up the topic while sitting by the much happier kitchen fire at the former's house, that she was in no shape to travel, that too with so small a baby. But Eileen was adamant. She had simply stated that if she was going to put it off for any longer, the rift in the relationships will be beyond repair.

Prince Manor stood ominous hidden in a wild forest of ancient oak trees. Muggle eyes of the Wigmore area of course saw a forest they should rather not venture in. To magical folks, it gave out an equally unwelcome aura. The whole property spanning for acres together screamed at anyone and everyone "KEEP OUT".

At one edge of the property stood a very ancient cemetery that housed the dead and the forgotten ancestors of the Prince bloodline, their familiars, and elves. The cemetery was bordered with tall birch and oak trees. On top of these ravens had made their nests. The young and witty Prince siblings would often refer to them as the true guardians of the dead. The mausoleum, a dark granite structure resembling a pentagon stood in the center. All other graves were laid in an intricate spiral formation around it, with the oldest near the mausoleum and the newest on the other outer edge. The sarcophagus of Hake Prince, the first Prince to live in Wigmore, was laid inside the mausoleum. His belongings as per his final wishes were stored all around the star-shaped room.

A very young and inquisitive Eileen had often accompanied her cousins to an adventurous trip to the cemetery. Once or twice the kids had managed to slip inside the building. She had to raise on the tip of her toes to see the figure carved on the sarcophagus. A flattened face oval in shape, a pair of much smaller ears, a rather grotesque nose tapering at the tip, and a pair of obsidian stones placed delicately, exactly where the eyes should be. The late Hake Prince was frightening, quite far removed from anything that described handsome Eileen had surmised.

Only one precious belonging of Hake Prince was not kept inside. It was a big hardbound tome, a completely handwritten journal. It was kept inside the sleeping quarters of its dead owner back at the Manor, under quite ancient and heavy wards. All the Princes, by birth, had at one point in their growing years read it. The wards were quite specific about it. Only a Prince by blood could touch and see the tome and read through it. It was never to leave the property, the perpetrator would suffer from jinx and curses that felt like his insides were set on fire and his outside growing numb after being exposed to severe cold, all at once. Even Eileen had read through it in her widowed aunt Aida Pince's west-facing parlor.

Eileen's mother Delilah Prince was alive but completely absent from the little girl's life. Marcus Prince's erratic behavior and ferocious bearings had been legendary. The man was known to lose his wits when exposed to extremes of emotions. In addition to that, it so seemed he was born without the feeling of remorse. The Prince family were prominent money lenders to both the wealthy and poor. In the initial years, even Muggles were included in the trade. But as decades passed, the family got dragged deeper into the doctrines of Pureblood Supremacy, and dealings with muggles became a pariah.

In a raging fit of anger, Marcus Prince had fired a rather dark spell. It could have killed his wife if it was not miscalculated and slightly misspelled. Instead of ending up dead, his wife was trapped in a comatose state, after one ill-prepared dinner. Her crime- she had ventured to the nearby Muggle settlement instead of overseeing meal preparations. Her personal elf had been collateral damage when it had tried to save his mistress. Eileen was two. She had always seen her mother lying on her bed, barely breathing and eyes close to the world. Marcus had only considered his daughter a property fit to be auctioned away to the highest bidder when she would come of age for marriage to the prime and wealthy pureblood bachelors. Thus, without a father to love, a mother to care for, Eileen had her aunt Aida to hold on to like a lost child. In spite of this, she would keep trying to appease her indifferent father throughout her little life but without much success.

Eileen had apparated right in front of the front gates of Prince cemetery. Out of practice and rare use of magic in these past months, had made her buck at her knees and heave her lunch in long painful gasps. The baby she checked was unperturbed to the trip, and the discomfort that accompanied it. "Quite strong you are, my son, Mrs. Sommers had me in twists for no reason at all. Let's go! Your Grandpa, can't surely ignore a cherub-like you." Caressing his pink cheeks, running her fingers through his baby thin black hair, and then cradling him closer to her chest, Eileen had turned from the cemetery to look over the long walk that led over to the giant gates of Prince Manor.

Each step she had taken towards her home for as long as she could remember, had fired up the flicker of hope she had been nursing since she had first seen her baby. When she saw the giant dark grey gates, a rare smile had lit up her face. She had hoisted the baby up once again and had literally raced to reach it in no time. But the moment her fingers had touched the ancient bars of the familiar entrance, she had felt a nerve-wracking pain shoot through her body. Toppling backward, she had realized, she wasn't shrieking but it was baby wailing his lungs out.

"Hush! Hush, babe, Hush!" the clueless mother had coaxed the child.

Her ministrations had stopped midway when after a loud pop, the house-elf of Prince Manor, Rogey had appeared on the other side of the gate.

Eileen had heaved a sigh of relief and had lunged and trudged forward mindful of the gate this time.

"Rogey, It's Me! Your Miss Eileen!" and then showing up the weeping baby, she had pleaded, "And this is your young master".

Rogey had simply stood on the other side of the closed gate, eyes remorseful. Eileen was slowly becoming agitated.

"Rogey, why don't the entry wards recognize me? ROGEY, I command you to let me in at this instant."

The elf had dropped his shoulders and wriggled his palms before solemnly replied, "Prince Manor no longer recognizes Miss." Then added with a plea, "Miss must leave right now! Rogey will not disobey the Lord Master. Or he will be punished and given clothes, or worse get killed at the Master's Hands. Miss Must Leave!"


	9. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

**Dragon's Kelp, Appalachian Mountains  
**_January 1960_

Rohirim Cel Cazut was never without his pitch-black cloak. He preferred to keep his jaded black hair long and tied with a leather string at the nape of his head. Apart from his sunken eyes, sharp jawline, it was his hooked nose that made him look stern and unfriendly at first sight. But, like they used to say, never judge a book by its cover.

The Kelp residents preferred to rely on wandless magic whereas the Gallowers wore wooden rings to channel their magic through. Some fifty years ago, roughly around Solveig's appointment as Naireen's companion, a handful of Haelmrock Gallows had started facing difficulties in performing wand magic. The elders had thus come up with the idea of wooden rings. It would function much like the wand, only it would always be on the wearer's person and be exposed for everyone else to see.

Cazut stood apart from them because he could wield a wand, perform wandless magic, even use knives the muggle way in order to defend himself, and he rode a broom which he had brought along much like the Kelp people rode their Dragons. The fact that Cazut preferred not to show off his capacities as a Wizard had worked in his favor. The Gallowers had accepted him one as their own due to his inherent nature to come to other's help and his love for magical and medicinal plants. Yet, none of them could gather the courage to ask him what brought him to this forsaken land.

He had proved himself to be a hard worker, to begin with. He spoke little, and never gossiped. He ran his business with the skill of an expert, though he maintained he was rather new to all these. During long evenings, when he remained in the Kelp overnight, he would often sing foreign songs, which he later said he had learned from Romanian Gypsies from mainland Europe. If potions and herbs were his trade, his passion, Solveig soon discovered, was in translating old texts and scriptures. His sole mission in life was to unearth every single aspect of the old mythical tale that had bound the fates of Kelp and Gallows together. In the first few months, folks of both the settlements were rather apprehensive of the newcomer. The gossip mill had run hard and ran long.

Until Madam Rossier dropped the question around the first Halloween he spent with them. He looked self conscious, lost, distant and morbid enough, when asked about his immediate family. "I don't remember my parents. I was brought up by my Grandpa in a circus caravan of the gypsies. When I turned eleven, I happened to find Luck was on my side. A benevolent man admitted me to a boarding school. My Old Man died while I was away. Out of school, without a job, with the little Grandpa had left for me, I decided to cross the ocean. The fishermen at the docks told me this was the nearest community for blokes of 'my kind'. Honestly, there is nothing much to add to it."

"And, love?", Isobe had chortled from beside his mother.

The man had looked so forlorn that the listeners could feel his pain, they told the others later on.

"Love was not made for people like me." Cazut had said it with such finality that no maid to this day dared to fancy him.

It was through tending the dragons and the later beasts warmly accepting the soft-spoken potion maker, that the Dragon Kelp members started including the man more and more in their daily life. Many years later, it became a common sight to see Young Miss Tulip shadowing the tall figure, chattering about things she read on seasonal ailments of dragon whelps or throwing endless queries about herbs that the potion maker saw in the forests and grassland meadows of Europe during his days among the wondering Romanian Gypsies, which were not found in Kelp. It was heartwarming to see, on Tulip Umphrey's every passing birthday, she would get one rare healing or some coveted herb tome from the quiet Potion Maker.

For Celina, it was a sheer act of foolhardy, that made her warm up to Tulip's new brotherly friend. She had been rather put off with her cousin's constant chattering about all the new things she was practically gorging in from the healing books she was allowed to read up recently. Celina wanted to do something equally impressive. In her hotheadedness, she had made the gravest errors of sneaking into the Whelp training confines and managing to free a whelp. But forgot to tie the saddle correctly.

Cel Cazut was simply in the right place at the right time that day. The man traveled on a ragged broom, something that was new in this part of the world. Since he had to frequent the Kelp more often than many of the Haermlock Gallows occupants, he had special permission to carry a broom and ride the same when required. He had merely flown past the half hanging blonde girl barely clinging on the strap over an excited and panicked Peruvian viper tooth dragon whelp trying very hard to get rid of his unwanted rider. Only moments later the man had returned to race with the now nose-diving and now rocketing upwards whelp.

Celina had watched with wide eyes how the man had balanced on his broom, bringing out a rather crooked little knife and had cut the strap locking her legs oddly. Soon she was plummeting into the wild undergrowth. Only just a few seconds after, she found herself securely tucked in front of her savior. The two had landed on one of the deserted turrets of the Old Ruins and the Potion maker had wordlessly tended to her minor cuts. When he had gestured for them to return to the main holdings of the Teeth, she had panicked. Grabbing at his black cloak sleeve earnestly, she panicked," Will you tell anyone?" The strange man had simply raised a single long finger to his thin-lined lips and had muttered, "Not a word, the youngest rider." And had winked at her.

None of these little events remained secrets to Solveig for long. The Gallowers and the Kelp settlers might have accepted him, but Rohirim Cel Cazut had trouble warming up to people. What he had were acquaintances, at least his misshapen face made sure of that. If the man could open up to anyone, it was Matre Sol. Their odd relationship was that of a mentor and apprentice, but no one would find a legal document on it.

He did arrive as promised right after Milis had laid down the breakfast. Solveig had given him one look and had signalled him to sit down. His haggard state had worried her," When was the last time you actually slept or ate a proper meal?"

The man blushed and looked away," That would be two days back Matre. I got the journal with me."

The elderly witch huffed," Oh, give it here, and help yourself. The Witchmen Head was right, I do need you. But I have no use of a half-dead and horribly starving man."

She hadn't allowed him to linger around more than necessary. Two levels below, in the guest quarters, the potioneer had been sleeping for nearly the whole day now. Celina and Tulip both had come and asked after him. He was a friend and an unlikely ally for the two girls, but Solveig wanted him to step into the much-needed role of a mentor. She knew first hand, only a person distinctly different from the ones you grow up with can teach you newer things. From Albus, she had learned two things. How to cast the Patronus and how to turn into an animagus.

_"Sol-ari, did you get lost in the past again?"_

_Solveig stifled a yawn and thought back, "Perhaps."_

_After a while, she spoke aloud, "_Naireen_, I think Cazut had brought with him the Blake version of what happened on the day of The Great Fire. It is not the whole I am sure. The boy is certain, it is all a tale told by a young man. And simple facts can neither give birth to prophecies nor do they carry the power to flung curses."_

_"Little ones, the both of you!"_

_"_Naireen_, I have a feeling that I am still to win your trust," Solveig could not help holding back the feeling of hurt from her thoughts._

_"Trust is the hardest thing to earn and the hardest feeling to nurture, even harder it is for a sworn woman who holds a speck of love for a man." the familiar replied in a miffed tone._

_"_Naireen_!"- Solveig shot up from the bed._

_"Hm?"_

_"It was a long time ago, and it was just a kiss."_

_"One that was never meant to be."_

_"I am but human and was too young back then,_ Naireen_!"_

_"The only reason you can still hear me in your head, now sleep."_

Solveig rearranged herself on her bed, this time facing away from the window. As she tried hard to think of prophecies, riddles, and maps of forgotten lands- anything but her single mistake in her long life of abstinence, a lone tear escaped her eye and dropped soundlessly on her pillow. A soft word rolled out of her sleepy lips, "Phoenix."


	10. Chapter 9

Not much is mentioned about Severus Snape's early life or birth. So, I am trying to tell it in my own way.

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

_Wigmore, England  
January 1960_

The snow was thick and the winds howling ominous curses in the young mother's ears. The bare branches of the oak trees, growing wild since the magical community of Wigmore chose to settle in this god-forsaken place, added to the dead chill and the feeling of unwelcomeness. Every ounce of power, courage, and belief of Eileen Prince nee Snape was broken to pieces today. Thus, neither the chill nor the wind, nor the heavy snow below her cold booted feet could give her back what all she lost in just moments earlier. Even the burden in her arms, the huge bundle of blankets she was carrying could offer no amount of hope to her. It almost felt like dead weight to the now shuddering thin and bony young woman wrapped in black, a lone figure trudging in the pristine white backdrop.

Hope. This was the only four-letter word; she was holding onto for the last three weeks. For months prior to that, she had been lonely, desolate, and desperate to hold on to some ray of hope. Hoping against hope that this misfortune of getting pregnant at seventeen, fresh out of Hogwarts would somehow turn into a blessing though she knew not how. Hoping that Tobias Snape would once again look at her not with abhorrence, but with love. If he would once again call her "Princess" with that rare touch of passion, possessiveness, and pure unadulterated love.

In her short life, Eileen never knew what love really meant. She had seen her schoolmates singing praises of this rare feeling, swooning over boys at Hogwarts from within the confines of their four-poster canopy beds.

She had seen young lovers kiss. But for her, she could only imagine, running the tips of her frail fingers, the light pressure, and ministrations of a lover's lips, behind the closed doors of the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror, or on the four-poster canopy bed of Hogwarts, staring up at the canopy, not seeing it actually. After all those years, Tobias Snape had kissed her. Several and she could count each one of them, so perched was her soul. Even if it was for one night. She had lived it, again and again, every night. They had kissed at the wedding but that was a harsh, quick, rough brush of lips, a sorry example of a chaste one. Eileen had for most of the night slept alone in the tiny bedroom. Tobias had come back home, more drunk and disoriented every other night, and dropped dead to the world on the living room couch. They had rarely spoken a word out of love, care, and concern. Words if spoken by the husband were to insult, while the timid wife would quiver in fright.

Eileen was as commonplace as unimpressive as perhaps the window panes. The thin sheets of glass may protect you from the outside weather, help you see how nature unfolds itself from the confines of your warm room. But they would only draw attention to themselves when the dust settles over their edges or when heavy drops of rain or hail splash against their outer side desperately trying to break in. Your thin yet stubborn window panes still precariously hold on through the merciless onslaught.

On second thoughts, window panes are after all made of glass. Glasses are meant to break never to be fixed back as a whole again. Today Eileen was completely shattered into a million pieces. What was more ironic was that her father Marcus Prince had literally held the hammer in his brutal hands and had flung it at his daughter with all the hatred any man could ever muster.

"_Lord Master, Father? No, Father would not do this…I want to meet father. Right Now. Please Rogey, Let me in. The grandfather must see his grandson. He will know, he will surely understand," looking down at her son," how precious he is", Elieen had begged through her tears._

_A booming voice had echoed in the air disturbing the smaller birds and the ravens all above the trees nearby. A very angry, purple in the face, Lord Master Marcus Prince had apparated at the front gates, followed by his frightened cousin Aida and her elder daughter, Iris. Kicking Rogey out of the way, Marcus had swiftly drawn out his ebony wand and had sent a very powerful Expeliarmus at Eileen. She had landed on her back once again, this time a couple of feet away. Baby Snape, knocked out of her arms, had rolled away, his wails piercing the heart of the cold and quiet wintery forest._

_When Marcus had aimed his wand again, this time at his grandson, determined to kill him at once, Aida had held on to him. "Marcus, stop! It's a baby."_

_Eileen had grappled and crawled to the baby, picked him up again, and warily approached her furious father._

_She had taken courage from Aida's discreet nod and had tried again._

"_Father, this is my son. Please, father, take a look at him, you will know. You will know he is special. He is The One. The one that the Hake Journal refers to. The one who will tame the minds, the one who will put a stopper to death, the one who will master magic dark and yet not be conquered by it, the one who will redeem…"_

_Her frantic narration was cut short when a well-aimed Diffindo spell, torn open her left sleeve inches away from her baby and her heart, cut a deep gorge at her arm. Marcus had stridden up menacingly to the gates, his face logged in its bars. His wand arm and his wand, vibrating with raw and wild power._

"_Shut up, wench. Blood traitor! If you stay even one moment more, I will set you up on fire."_

_Turning his disgusted eyes at still wailing babe, he continued, "Take this dirt, tainted mudblood, away, better kill it. Set fire to it. Just like your muggles like it. Better I will rip it apart with my bare hands…"_

_Marcus had made an effort to open the gates, but now a panicking Aida and Iris were trying to hold him back. Eileen stood still shocked, a few feet away. Her eyes wide and face ashen. Her heart beating loudly in her ears with renewed panic._

_Aida had turned to her niece, tears rolling down her cheeks, "Leave Eileen, Hurry now, Child, for the baby's sake. Leave."_

_Snapping out of her dazed state, Eileen had turned and ran with all her might._

_Behind her, her father's threats were ringing loud and clear._

"_Blood traitor! Dragged the name of Prince to the gutters! Fool, stupid lousy, bedded a Mudblood, A MUDBLOOD! And married it! Now comes knocking at my gate, with a babe attached to tits, singing fairytale praises. Lunatic!" Dipping his tone in abusive mockery he went on, "Father, He is the one." Coughing and heaving, he ranted on, "I will kill that shit if I ever hear of it! Out! Get Out! Out of my Property!"_

Aida Pince held her cousin close, patting his back, as his body wrecked under fits of cough. She turned to her daughter and asked, "Iris, take your uncle to his room." As the young frightened lady took the ailing man inside, she turned to Rogey and commanded, "Summon the kitchen and send up some light soup and get the potions ready for your master." Looking out, beyond the gates, her stoic face, softened and a veil of sadness fell upon her eyes. Rogey stood indecisive beside the acting mistress of the household. Gathering some courage, he drew her attention to himself, "If the Mistress so wants, Rogey can keep an eye out for Miss Eileen, till she leaves the estate."

A tear threatened to drop from her eyes, as Aida swiftly turned to the elf, bestowing him with her rare smile, "Oh! Rogey, I would very much like you to do that!"

The sad elf's face lit up with a grin that stretched from one of his big batty ears to the other and then he popped away.


	11. Chapter 10

Not much is mentioned about Severus Snape's early life or birth. So, I am trying to tell it in my own way. This time around, I am planning to finish it. I could have taken down the entire thing, but I didn't wish to lose those valuable reviews.

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

_Wigmore, England  
January 1960_

Aida Pince was no ordinary witch. In her days at Hogwarts, she could put to shame any boosting fellow classmates in a fitting duel at Charms and Defence against the Dark Arts. But her true finesse lay in Divination. She had even gone ahead after Graduation to get an apprentice in the same subject, but that was cut short. She had been married away to Signor Pince, a distant cousin of the Prince family. She was Marcus's eldest cousin, daughter of his Uncle Benjamin. Her eldest daughter, Iris was born within a year of her marriage. Signor was a trader whose job kept him away from home, for months together. And Aida stayed at Prince Manor with her daughter Iris. She had taken up the responsibility to handle the household affairs, tended to her sister in law and brought up a very lonely and frightened Eileen Prince. Irma Pince was born just days after her father's sudden death from Dragon Pox. The aggrieved mother, along with her two daughters had continued living their lives at the dreadful Manor, which by now that truly became their home.

Eileen could no longer run. She was out of breath and the wailing baby was truly weighing her down. She had managed to come quite far from the gates and gracelessly sat on the side of the gravel path, the snow wetting her robes and cloak, still shaking with dread. Blood was slowly sweeping into her dress, flowing free from her wounded arm. The blankets that covered the baby too had started soaking in the blood flowing unobstructed. The son might have sensed the shift in the movements and had reduced to hiccoughing and whimpering. The horrid words of her father rang loud and clear. So deep were their impacts, that Eileen had finally snapped.

The young mother had grown uncomfortably silent. Her pale face devoid of emotions. Her eyes, which were a mix of dark chocolate and black in better days, had gone hard and cold, black as death. She looked down at the baby wriggling on her lap. Her thoughts running wild, overall that she could have had and all that she had lost.

Eileen snarled and the baby like a cornered cat. "You".

Her father's words echoed in her mind again and again.

"_Take this dirt, tainted mudblood, away, better kill it. Set fire to it. Just like your muggles like it. Better I will rip it apart with my bare hands…"_

She shot on her feet determined and trudged on the snow, Little Snape jostling in her arms as she marched towards the Cemetery.

She could hear every single insult Tobias had flung at her. She could see his face loveless hard and accusing. His words on the day their son was born, now got mixed with those of her father.

"_I can throw you out right now, but I need a keep, to take care of the baby and to cook a proper meal, something you lack absolutely."_

"_Make that whelp shut the hell up!"_

"_You chose to come without a dowry as well, learn up, and quickly, how to be a dedicated wife."_

"_Horrible! Is this what you call food, even the pigs in the stay won't taste it"._

"_That wretched howling creature, what does it want now? Wailing and howling, eating away my mind, draining away my money, both the mother and her babe, useless utter bad Omen."_

Words of abuse and threat. Bouncing off and tearing away and denting at her soul. Distraught and recklessly she pushed her way through the cemetery gates. A disillusioned Rogey had accompanied her half the way, it was his presence that allowed the wards to respond to Eileen, though the disturbed mother was in no shape to ponder upon it.

She walked up to the clearing from where the main area of the burial ground just started and literally dumped the baby with its blankets on the snow. Rogey, hid by an oak tree, still watching his disowned mistress, his face worried.

Eileen was circling round and round, around the baby, stomping her feet on the snow, muttering to herself under her breath. Now and then wiping off angry tears. Her own words mocking back at her.

"_Nothing was lost as of yet_".

"_He could be the one from the prophecy. All I need to do is take him to my father and he will know, surely, he will accept us back. All is not lost."_

More tears rolled down at that. Her boots hit the ground with vigor sending snow particles this way and that way.

"_Take this dirt, tainted mudblood, away, better kill it. Set fire to it. Just like your muggles like it. Better I will rip it apart with my bare hands…"_

"Yes! Yes, yes! Kill it! Kill It! That will do! Father will be pleased! Yes!", Eileen could not hold her glee, she swiftly brought out her wand and aimed it at her baby. The son had grown tired with all the crying and was barely able to keep himself awake. Disuse of magic and her broken soul simply could not aid her in casting a spell. Lost and defeated she sank to her feet. Kneeling down, till her face touched the cold snow, she started weeping again. Her eyes drooped down with exhaustion. All she could hear was her thundering heartbeat against her ears. And her wheezing breath coming out in smoky puffs. "Tobias. He loves me, deep down, he loves me. He married me." The cry of the ravens from the treetops were the only sounds filling the melancholic air, other than her empty words.

Slowly, she sat straight and peered at the baby once again. "But he hates me now, because of you. Father hates me now because of you. And Perhaps, perhaps that will all change if you are not in there anymore." She crawled forward, closure to the baby now, looking into his eyes, "But I can not kill. Magic no longer answers my call and Tobias… Tobias does not like magic". Suddenly she grew serious and in a cold voice carried on, "But you, you must die."

Her ears had picked up the cries of the raven, tilting her head up, she scanned the treetop. "Yes! Lots of them, you know, these are scavenging Ravens, magical, but prefer the graves, to the household. What I can't do, they will do for me." Getting up on her feet, she brushed off her robes, stamped her feet to get them working back, shaking off the numbness from all the cold and wet snow below. "I better get back; Tobias will be waiting for me." She turned with a sinister smile on her face, rushed out of the cemetery, once out of the gates, she apparated away with a loud pop.

* * *

**Dragon's Kelp, Appalachian Mountains**

_January, 1960_

The man with tousled raven black hair jolted on the bed and fell on his face. His familiar had been frantically cawing over his head for a while now. Trying to free himself from the tangle of quilts and thick fur blankets, Rohirim Cel Cazut gulped and shouted urgently into the thick night air," The baby, the baby in the cemetery. Someone save him. Someone, please. The baby, don't, please don't cry. Oh! Please. Someone, please save him."

The flagged stone below him started rumbling and he could hear the cries of a hundred dragons through the cracks of the window. Half crawling and lumbering across the room, he threw open the windows and jumped back. His clothes were wet from his sweat, his eyes were wide as if he had seen death rising from the graves arranged in an accurate spiral formation. Clenching his fist over his chest he whispered still unsure of himself," the Baby, someone ought to save him."


	12. Chapter 11

Not much is mentioned about Severus Snape's early life or birth. So, I am trying to tell it in my own way. This time around, I am planning to finish it. I could have taken down the entire thing, but I didn't wish to lose those valuable reviews.

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

**Dragon's Kelp, Appalachian Mountains**  
_January, 1960_

Milis had alerted Solveig about Cel Cazut distraught condition. The house-elf had found the mistress awake and pacing around her bedroom, neither had to spell it out to each other, it was the dragons that had them hanging by their wits.

Propped up against a stack of pillows, a cup of warm chocolate in his hands, Cel Cazut looked at the host rather sheepishly as the dutiful house-elf popped away. "It was just a nightmare."

"No it was not, or else the dragons wouldn't be acting as such," Solveig softly corrected him.

"I don't know what…," he trailed off looking intently at the contents of his cup instead.

"I had learned long back that Emanuel Krum did something extraordinary, by getting an orphan admitted at a Magical School that insisted on teaching Purebloods. Your blood status, they found out was rather inconclusive. But Lord Krum would hear nothing of it. He had already paid in advance for the entire seven years' course."

She waited to see the quiet man's reactions, but when he gave nothing away, she pressed on," Still, no one has any say over the desires of one's heart. The reason why you crossed the ocean was that you had to prove to Mr. Krum your true lineage in order to ask for the hand of his eldest daughter in marriage."

She was satisfied by how quickly the color drained out of his already pale face.

"I think you do know, Cazut. Milis told me, you were crying about a baby being in danger, and Naireen tells me I should at least ask you to be honest about yourself now. If you are still determined to atone for the sins of your forefathers and see to it that the prophecy comes true?" The Kelp Mistress rubbed her hand over her robes and sighed.

"So all these years ago, you did enquire about me. I should have guessed. It was the right thing to do, you must know the background of any newcomer to allow him to stay," he tried to buy some time.

"You are smart enough. But do tell me, from whom shall I get my information about one unassuming wizard, attending Durmstrang Institute for Magical Learning, located somewhere between the borders of Norway and Sweden?" Matre Solveig smirked.

Cazut chuckled and took a long sip from the cup. When he looked up, he found the older witch watching him expectantly, at the same time he could make out the solemness that glistened over her eyes.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"Emanuel Krum was killed by the very people you had saved him from soon after you had arrived at the Gallows. This means you are no longer bound by the oath of Mr. Krum. My sources tell me the witch that killed your parents is no longer a witch either. Rumour has it she carried a blood curse. but I am sorry, I know little about that her whereabouts," she stated apologetically.

Nodding at her, he said, "You know, I always had this keen interest to know more about magical creatures. The circus I grew up in, dealt with odd animals, a large snake with two heads. A monkey with two tails, a fish with a transparent body. You could see every organ, even the eggs when it got pregnant. My maternal grandfather brought me up. He was the knife master. Everybody used to pity me. Mostly because of the way, my parents died. They said a shapeshifting witch had killed them. She could turn into a snake…My grandfather, Lohan, knew I had magic in me, I got it from my father, he used to say."

"How did you come to own the Journal?" Solveig asked, genuinely interested. In her mind, she was trying to calm herself, '_surely he didn't show it to anyone at school.'_

"That Journal was handed down to me by my forefathers, but I only got it once I passed out of Durstrang and returned to my people. I grew up among the Buceag gypsies who still live near the Prahova Valley, somewhere in the secret caverns in the Bucegi Mountains. It was a miracle I could even go and study there. The first accidental magic I ever did was to save a man's life. Luck was by my side because I saved the life of an influential wizard Emanuel Krum. As a live debt, he arranged for my education."

After a pause, Cazut smirked dispassionately, "Of all the students to attend that school I was the only unfortunate one to have lost my way into the mountainous terrain surrounding it and to have landed right into the dragon herder's village- Hjertet av Isrosa. They tried to obliviate me but failed after several attempts. It was the Kolbi Head, who asked me to find you, Matre Solveig, saying '_no wizard can ever wander into Isrosa's heart unless he is connected to the fall of Haerlmrock Gallows.'_."

Getting up Solveig had ordered the man to rest. Before leaving his room, she thought it was better to leave him with something to take solace from," First thing in the morning, we will look into your dream and Cazut, Anastasia Krum never got married either."

* * *

_**Wigmore, England**__  
January 1960_

Aida Pince had just helped her ailing cousin settle in his rooms. The potions had been administered and the hot soup which Rogey had swiftly brought up had worked wonders. But she wasn't worried about Marcus. She knew her brother to be a vile man, unworthy of affection. Still, as an acting mistress of the house, she did whatever was expected of her. She loved her daughters, Iris and Imra. While the older was much like her mother, the younger one liked everything and anything that had begun with a book and ended in a book.

Iris would often tease Imra that she would die in a wretched sooty and cobwebbed library with many cats yowling around her. Aida had chuckled at that and had pinched a miffed Imra cheek with teasing affection. If there was anyone else who had a share of her affection apart from her daughter, it was the quiet and melancholic Eileen. Aida sighed in resignation, "Poor Girl."

Rogey had popped right in front of her shocking her to the tips of her hair. "Mistress must come now, hurry. The baby, ravens on it."

Before Aida could manage a word out of her mouth, she found herself inside the Cemetary, Rogey still holding onto her hand, his knobby fingers secured around her wrist. He was frantically pointing at a distance. "Stop! Rogey, this instant!" The elf had immediately shrunken away from the tall woman, and had started banging his head in full force, "Rogey must punish himself" _bang-bang," He_ has caused distress to the kind mistress" _bang bang_. "Rogey is a bad elf".

"Rogey stop, I am commanding you, I will decide your punishment when we are back to the Manor. Now come here." The elf had picked his way back beside his mistress and should expectedly for further orders. "Tell me what happened."

As Rogey narrated the unfortunate events, Aida was watching the scene in front of her unfolding in the weirdest of natural phenomena she had ever encountered before.

The house -elf's voice droned in the background, "…and then Miss leaves, an evil smile on her face. Mistress, miss leaves the baby for the ravens to feast on," he could no longer hold on, weeping wildly into his only clothing, a tattered pink pillowcase. "My magic could not break what is happening here, Rogey got afraid and went to fetch Mistress."

Aida could not believe her eyes. "_What magic is this, dark or light?"_, she thought to herself. The ravens instead of picked and pecking at the soft flesh of the exposed baby were curiously hovering over it. Then, a larger Raven, probably the head of the entire flock, that had gathered around, precariously perched over the blanketed body of the baby and peered into him. _Further, scrutinizing his prey?_ Aida had involuntarily lurched forward, her motherly instincts acting up at that moment but what she saw next, brought her to a halt. The Raven scooted back a little and sat still in his perch. Gradually, the rest of the flock that was still circling around the scene, settled down, making the least of noise. She was surprised, "_Are they protecting it?"_

Cautiously, with Rogey at her tow, Aida walked up to the site. A few of the ravens on the trees had noticed her advance and now had started cawing in alarm. Though none of them stopped her from approaching where the baby lay. The large Raven had skipped a few paces away, but his eyes were keenly surveying the two humans in front of him. As for the Elf, he made no sign of its presence affecting him or his flock. Aida sat down beside the baby, wary of the many raven eyes trained on her. Slowly her fingers removed the blanket further away from the now quiet baby's face. She gasps aloud, "Oh! Could this be…! Merlin!"

Eileen's son's significant features had unnerved her to her core. Gingerly she had touched his forehead. The baby's eyes had flown open at the unfamiliar touch. And Obsidian eyes had locked her gaze. In a moment, she felt she had traveled light-years in space and back. Her nerve ends were sizzling as if tasting a rare force of magic, her heart started hammering at a rate she never experienced before. Astonished and unable to take it in anymore, she had drawn back her hand, cradling her palm in the other for support. Tears were running profusely from her eyes. "Rogey, did you see, did you feel it?" The elf had replied in awe, "Rogey feels it. Rogey senses it. Rogey doubts. And Rogey seems to know." Aida had brushed away her tears, glad she had come here for the first time, caressing the baby's cheek in affection, she said, "worthy a Prince on all accounts".

Turning towards the manor, while still seated beside the now cooing and gurgling baby, she spoke aloud, "_Accio_ Eileen's gift." In a moment, a small parcel flew into the cemetery and landed right into Aida's waiting palm. She opened the parcel and arranged the minimized items inside the folds of Young Snape's blanket.

She brushed the tips of her fingers through the baby's wild mop of hair, and smiled once again, "Worthy one, you are and redeem us when the time comes, you will. Worry not little one, Mother will come for you."

Turning to a now beaming Rogey, she smiled and said, "Let's head back, Rogey, Time will have strange stories to tell in the years to come."

* * *

Hjertet av Isrosa- Norwegian for heart of Ice Pink.  
The Krum family members are made up by me, so are the members of the Prince Family.


	13. Chapter 12

Not much is mentioned about Severus Snape's early life or birth. So, I am trying to tell it in my own way. This time around, I am planning to finish it. I could have taken down the entire thing, but I didn't wish to lose those valuable reviews.

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 12**

_Wigmore,  
January 1960_

Aida Pince, with Rogey's help, had apparated to the front step of Prince Manor. The Sun had gradually rolled towards the western edges of the sky. Winter clouds, soft and weightless dotted the heavily used palate of the Creator. Shades of blue, red, yellow, and white swirling one above the other with the impatient swipes of a hurrying painter's brush- the sky looked like the ultimate abstract masterpiece man could ever imagine painting. Sighing heavily, she was about to push open the front door, when she turned to Rogey as if remembering something. The old elf of Prince Manor, dedicated and obedient, had likewise turned up to his acting Mistress, eyes questioning.

"Is the Mistress wanting something?"

A shrewd look crossed Aida's pulled up face. "Yes, Rogey. You are to be punished for breaking the Prince code."

"Mistress, Rogey will serve."

Aida had knelt down and had conspiratorially whispered to the elf. "You are to go back to the front gates of the Prince cemetery. And wait for Miss Eileen's return. Heal her and help her get through the gates. You are to return immediately and find me at once. I will give you something very, _very important_. You are to make absolutely certain Miss gets it, make sure no one else sees either of the mother and the baby, and see to it that they have safely and quietly left the property without disturbing the wards. Don't utter a word. Don't let yourself be seen. Report back to me, anything and everything you see, you hear and all that you feel."

Rogey gave a determined nod. "Rogey will serve as the mistress wants." And popped off.

The deserted barren lands near the Cokeworth factory had once been wheat fields. Centuries ago. That sewage now a gurgling excuse of a stream was once a healthy rivulet, proud and powerful enough to harness much hydraulic power to run the wheat mill. But with the river dying and changing its course, the farmers could hardly carry on. The fields no longer remained fertile. The old mill turned into a haunted site. The little population shifted away. A barren land overgrown with wild grass and brush caught the eyes of an industrious Mr. Cokeworth. The man with a tweed hat had a vision. And it was his vision that saw the birth of the Cokeworth factory which made the highest quality of automobile parts. Soon people started coming back and started settling around the factory. This was how the Cokeworth locality came into being. It was bigger than a village, smaller than a town. And now, that which once thrived full of life, light, happiness, and promises, was dying a slow death.

The stretched out barren lands, where once golden wheat eyes danced with the winds, where farmers whistled while they tilled their harvest, where dogs guarded their masters, where birds fed on fallen grains and where, when dusk came, men together as a group marched homewards with a happy song on their lips, satisfied with the days' hard work- Eileen apparated back.

Her feet hit the hard ground and she shrieked in pain. Grabbing her wounded left arm, she shook. The jolt of throbbing pain had brought her back to her senses. The several apparitions she had performed today, had depleted her magical resources. She was weak and exhausted. Panting heavily, she lay down sideways. Trying hard to control her breath, tightening her grip around the wound, with her torn sleeve, she realized, she might have also splinched. _But why was it so quiet?_ She tried to listen harder. She could hear the distant clanging sounds coming from the factory, the trickling water from the stream, the cricket song now and then. Her heavy breathing. Her thudding heartbeat. She closed her eyes and tried to think hard above the pain.

Shooting up and winching in pain, grabbing her arm, renewing the pressure above the wound, the young mother panicked, "No! no, my son, my baby! Merlin! What did I do? What did I…bloody hell, the Ravens!"

Closing her eyes, unmindful of what she was about to do, Eileen thought hard of the much familiar Prince cemetery gates and apparated back.

Aida had rushed to her private study and was desperately looking for one specific bundle of parchments- a series of letters she had been writing to Eileen for the past couple of months since the girl had just disappeared without a trace.

_Marcus had been livid and Iris had grown nervous and agitated by the hour. The eldest Pince daughter was about to pursue mediwitchcraft at the Brussels Medical Institute for Mediwizards and Mediwitches. She had received rudimentary training from Irene Moonstone the resident Mediwitch, working at Hogwarts Infirmary. With a flourishing reference letter written by Madam Moonstone and the Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Iris, a Hufflepuff through and through, had easily gotten a seat in the respected college._

_It was under her uncle's constant threat and her fear of her uncle's eccentricity, that Iris had blurted out- "Eileen is getting married at Cokeworth Church to a muggle she met and fell in love with." Marcus had just heard enough and had stormed out of the Manor. He knew that place, he had done business there long ago. And a church was not too hard to find. Destination clear in mind, he had apparated from the front of the Prince cemetery vowing he would come back and dig a fresh grave to bury his only daughter, alive. Aida was too shocked to decide which way to go. Dumbfounded she had blankly stared at her daughter, who had by now, buried her face in her slender hands and was crying loudly. Aida had managed to come across the room, patting her daughters back, she had whispered, fear and premonition evident in her voice, "Iris, what else?"_

_The girl had lunged into her mother's lap, burying herself into her mother's bosom, she had managed the next few words out in between her incessant crying- "Mother, Eileen…she is 12 weeks pregnant."_

_Aida couldn't believe her ears. She had gradually helped the girl untangle herself and held her arms softly, giving as much as motherly comfort as she could. "What? Eileen is with a child?"_

_"Yes, mother. About two months ago, when we had gone to the Wizards fair at Kent, with some of our Hogwarts friends, Eileen had left early. I didn't think much about it. And you also said the girl needed to unwind a bit. Her life was too lifeless. And, mother, When I had apparated in front of the cemetery the next day early morning, Eileen was sitting in front of the Mausoleum doors, a goofy smile on her lips. I had never seen her smile like that. I thought she might have really enjoyed her time alone, roaming about freely for the first time in her life. I could never have thought our Eileen ever had the courage to speak to boys, or even look at them into their eyes. About a week ago, I had found her continuously rushing into the bathroom, heaving, and vomiting. I grew curious. I went to her and asked. She was beyond herself. I was so frightened, Mother. My hands shook while I did the spell. She was quite pregnant. I think I suppose, I also found out, that it's a boy. I told her how, hurt you would be if you got to know. She looked at me crestfallen. She said, "I got to get to him to marry me at least then. Sh…she just took off. Oh! Mother! Uncle will surely kill her!"_

_Aida had once again held her shivering child close and tight, and they both had rocked together, pacifying one another, dreading every passing moment. About an hour later, Rogey had apparated with a delirious Marcus Prince. Aida had flooed to the family Healer hastily. Healer Spencer, an old and reliable man, who kept his lips sealed and have been trusted with Delilah's comatose state long back, with the money, of course, had pronounced effortlessly. Marcus Prince was suffering from overuse or abusive use of magic, a condition rare, but that had been eating at his magic core, depleting his magical resources, and now it was beyond repair. The man was actually, very slowly causing his own death. And there was no known way to reverse it._

_Under these circumstances, both Aida and Iris had decided to keep the matter of Eileen, a heavily guarded secret from the rest of the world, wishing hard, that Eileen was perhaps going to lead a rather happy life, away from this dismal existence._

"Mother?"

Aida looked up from her desk, fingers closed over the bunch of parchments she had been hunting for, "Yes, Iris?"

The young woman walked up and quietly asked, "What happens now?"

"Nothing."

"Mother! How can you say that?"

"I can. Because, I am sure, nothing is going to go wrong."

Confused, Iris, squinted her eyes and surveyed her mother's rather oddly beaming face and asked with a doubt that crept up her throat for the first time that day.

"Mother, what did you see?"

**"A blazing future, though riddled with hardship, pain, and anguish, but fantastic and fascinating at the same time; Such power, such enigma, such old breath-taking prowess, such magnanimous example of a heart, such ancient a soul- **Oh! Iris, if only you could sense it".

Iris stood rooted at her feet, staring at her mother awestruck.

* * *

A/N: I had to narrate about Eileen more in detail, because, I wanted to establish, why she was so indecisive in the manner she had brought up Severus. There would be some more of this angst. I figured I had more to tell than I had intended, had more to explore the underlying ocean of emotions behind that stoic mask, Professor Snape always wore.


	14. Chapter 13

Not much is mentioned about Severus Snape's early life or birth. So, I am trying to tell it in my own way. This time around, I am planning to finish it. I could have taken down the entire thing, but I didn't wish to lose those valuable reviews.

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 13**

**Dragon's Kelp, Appalachian Mountains**  
_January, 1960_

Rohirim Cel Cazut could hardly manage to sleep the rest of the night. Nothing working in his favour. Even the strongest dose of Sleeping Draught failed in its purpose. On a usual day, he would have got frustrated with that. But today was not a usual day, was it? His Anatasia was waiting for him to return, wasn't that what Matre Sol wanted to tell him? How did she learn so much about him? Was she in contact with the Kolbi Dragon Herders of the Hjertet av Isrosa?

The Kolbi Headman, Melvin Kolbi had made him swear. He had to take an oath never to divulge their location to anyone. Finally, they had dropped him somewhere closer to the school. That was the first time in his life he had the fortune to ride a dragon. A search party conducted by the school had retrieved him and brought him back to school. He was just a third-year student.

Anastasia was his classmate. Vasil Krum, her younger and only brother, had started attending when he was in his sixth year. Unlike their parents, the brother and sister were fond of him. Perhaps, it was Vasil who somehow managed to contact the Kolbi tribe in search of him? Would Vasil go against his father Lord Krum? Maybe he did, he loved his sister too much...perhaps he still does, to support her wishes.

Now, Cel Cazut wanted to know more about her, he wanted to hold her for once and see for himself that sparkle in her eyes, each time he whispered her secret name close to her ears, "ienupăr". Coming up to the only desk in the room, he picked up the journal wrapped up in a velvet cloth and held it against his chest. Whispering to himself he vowed," ienupăr, if you are truly waiting for me, I promise, I shall return. I will see the end to all of this, claim my right to stand next to you, I shall return. You have my word, my love."

Next, bringing the journal close to his face, he spoke to it as if it was a living thing, "Ever since grand old Lohan left me with you, I can feel your magic, I can feel your voice calling at me. I have crossed an ocean and made a life here. I have a family, but yet, they are not my own. Who am I?"

Closing his eyes, he could still see the baby's face. A mop of wild black hair scrunched up pale face and a pair of obsidian eyes. He was sure, it was not his child. Anatasia and he had never crossed that line. Vasil had argued in his favour with Lord Krum, "More the reason to give your blessing to these two Father. Cazut cares for Tasia. He is far more honourable than any of those Purebloods." The Lord had slapped his own son and had had Cazut thrown out of his mansion saying," What proof do you have that you are better than an honourable Pureblood Wizard?"

Looking at the glass of the closed window, he peered at his distorted reflection and prayed aloud," Who ever you are child, I wish someone truly saves you and that your mother finds you and holds you close to her heart and eases away your fears for good. I wish you are safe and sound, babe. I truly wish so."

* * *

_**Wigmore, England**__  
January 1960_

Getting restless, Aida Pince had all but shooed her still bewildered daughter out of the room and had locked it behind her, securing it with a disturb-me-not-unless-its-Rogey. A rather crude name for a rather fantastic spell, a personal invention of Aida. Though she seriously lacked the art of finding a fitting name. Casting a 'write-down-my thoughts' spell, her yet another invention, on a clean parchment which immediately had a sharpened, and properly inked quill balanced and ready, she began. She had very little time and too much to write. And Aida Pince must not forget to mention anything at all. Eileen would need her guidance in the following years, and this is the only way she could manage to provide.

Rogey had been with the Prince family since his birth. His mother Pany had been the grand old Mrs. Prince's personal elf, a wedding present from the Prince family to the then young wife. He had seen a lot over the years and had known the tendencies of the Prince males to dabble in the nasty dark Magic. They simply couldn't resist its elusive call. But this magic that he had faced today with the babe and ravens at the graves of his past masters was different. This was pure, powerful, and had depth, something Rogey had heard from old gran tales that elf mothers would sing in lullabies. _But those were old elf tales?_ He felt he should ask around to other elf brothers and sisters. But then doubted whether that would alert others. He decided he had to think some more and plan before simply calling in for help.

Standing right behind the last but one oak tree ending the row that went right up to the Giant Gates of the Manor, disillusioned Rogey saw a heavily exhausted and blood-soaked Eileen apparate back in front of the cemetery gates and tumble down. The young Miss could hardly move. A _snap_ of two knobby fingers later, things started looking better. Another snap and the horrid looking open wound saw itself obediently sealing back.

Eileen had felt the newer magic entering her personal space, energizing her, healing her, and enlivening her moods. She looked up scanning her surroundings carefully. She could see no one. _This benefactor felt familiar._ But she had no time to search for this one. She whirled about and picking up the edges of her robe, ran up to the ancient gates that led to the graves of her forefathers.

The young mother had merely extended her hand intending to pull open the iron gate when two things happened simultaneously. She had felt the initial repulsive spell radiating from the iron bars, marking her for an outsider and then a surge of the more familiar magic washing over her and pushing open the gates for her. She had looked over her shoulder, like a deer caught before headlights, and had whispered a thank you.

As Eileen had all but surged forwards through the snow, Rogey had popped back into Aida's study, one hand already extended to receive whatever the acting mistress was intending to have delivered to the Miss. Placing a rather large envelope and a round box on his flat palm Aida had dismissed him with a swift nod.

The ravens had noticed the distraught mother making her way through the gravel and snow and were cawing in unison. The Big Raven had once again skipped back, this time closer to the baby's crown. As for little Snape, his eyes were open and alert and were perhaps trying to engage the big black bird into a very interesting conversation. Eileen was surprised to see, just how the Raven was turning his head this way and that way, contributing to every sound her much alive baby was making. Panic and sheer joy, the mother had lunged at her baby, picked him up and held him tight in her embrace, whispering and crying in relief, "Mama is so, so sorry. Mama is a fool. Forgive me, Merlin, forgive me!"

If the sight of a huge flock of ravens seated vigilant and guarding over her only son had shocked the mother, Eileen was dumbfounded at what happened next. The Big raven had flapped its wings with pleasure and had flown in circles round and round above the heads of the mother and the child. One by one the rest of the flock had joined their leader, flying, wings flapping at equal intervals, cawing in unison, forming a vortex spiraling from inside towards the peripheries. Some odd celestial form of magic had started vibrating and glowing through the formation. And the mother had all but dashed out of the cemetery.

Rogey had popped back right in time. He had seen the ravens above the heads of the two humans he was instructed to protect and he had hastily snapped his fingers to close the gates at the very last moment. He had then levitated the heavy letter and the round box right in front of the Miss. Eileen had hesitated but for a couple of seconds. Recognizing the scrawling penmanship of her aunt Aida, on the face of the envelope, she had snatched both the items, stuffed them into her pockets, hoisted her son firmly in her arms, imagined the deserted barren lands once and apparated away after whispering quick and quiet gratitude, "Thank you, Rogey."

* * *

A/N: I had to narrate about Eileen more in detail, because, I wanted to establish, why she was so indecisive in the manner she had brought up Severus. There would be some more of this angst. I figured I had more to tell than I had intended, had more to explore the underlying ocean of emotions behind that stoic mask, Professor Snape always wore.

Ienupăr means juniper in Romanian language.


	15. Chapter 14

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 14**

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry_

_Scotland_

_30 January 1960_

The Great Hall was buzzing with the usual breakfast cacophony. Many students chose to come down rather late. The students who had gone back home during the Christmas break had returned, quite refreshed, the essence of festivity still lingering around. Everyone had finally settled in for the second term of the academic year. The homework had started getting gruesome. But it was Hogsmeade weekend, so the general spirit of the Great Hall was rather exuberant. The owls had already swooped in, toppled pumpkin juices, splashed food, unmindful and hasty in unloading their delivery and interested either in a scrap of food, or knuts if they were distributing the newspaper. The desserts were already served.

Some of the students had started getting up meaning to head for the courtyard. There they usually assembled for the final headcount. Even the cold draft that was blowing through the chilling corridors of the ancient castle, could not dampen their excitement. The feeling of chanced upon freedom was so over-consuming. Each one of those, who had permission to go out, was heavily wrapped in woolen garments that they looked double their sizes.

Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster was rather jovial, at least his canary yellow robes and half-moon spectacles were glinting with mirth and amusement. He liked watching the young enjoy this part of their life. These were the prime years which once gone will never come back. Minerva McGonagall, the Transfiguration professor, and the deputy headmistress had been quite excitedly discussing a very revolutionary essay she had just read the other night, in the periodical Transfiguration Today. She was about to pick up her goblet again. Her throat decisively parched for all the chattering.

First there was a loud rumble. That had all the occupants grow quiet and unsettled. Then the walls of the old castle started to hum.

The students were now quite beside themselves. Turning this way and that, to access what others were thinking. Many had turned their head to the Head's table, for further guidance. Even his colleagues were now staring at him and around themselves, apprehension prominent in their features. But the powerful Albus Dumbledore was clueless. This was something he was never prepared for. The unique vibration after equal intervals, could mean many things. A few muggle students were already making a run for the doors. Yelling at the others, the castle was about to fall. "It is an earthquake, run!"

The teachers had by now stood up and the deputy headmistress was trying to address the agitated crowd. Dumbledore had just pointed his wand at the side of his throat. When all of it stopped, just like that.

"Headmaster, Albus, Albus, what was all that?", A very distraught Minerva had asked him, from his elbow.

"My dear, I myself, don't really know what was all that."

There. Once again, the castle shook mildly. And a deep thudding beat started to play. Its tone, dull and subdued. But present and constant. All the students had by now, risen from their benches and had gathered in between the rows screaming. Some holding on to each other for support and reassurance.

"Silence!" The headmaster's voice rose above the din- loud and clear.

"Everyone DO NOT panic. Prefects will lead their respective housemates to their dorms and common rooms. Teachers will follow me! House ghosts will assist us. And then they will oversee the fact that students stay in their dorms until further notice. Unfortunately, today's Hogsmeade trip is canceled."

When the last student had filed out, the teachers had divided the routes among themselves. They were trying to locate the source of the strange noise that seemed to be coming from all over the place. Both Dumbledore and Professor Flitwick had tried various spells, unique and one of a kind- still each and every one of their efforts, were rendered useless. The thudding sound had neither grown louder nor had it grown quieter. As if the castle was throbbing with life. After hours of inspecting, prodding and performing complex spells, the much-resigned and thoroughly exhausted charms professor had turned to the headmaster, defeated, "Sir, I tried everything I could think of, but this is most curious!"

Minerva, who had returned from scouting through the castle with a too tired Madam Sprout called them from behind.

"We went through the dungeons, Horace had accompanied us too, we looked thoroughly, we did not find anything substantial. The potion master just dropped into his chambers to rest a bit. The whole place was thudding, just like it is here. The walls and the floors are all vibrating at equal intervals. I am sure the students are beyond themselves. Their safety, Albus…"

"Minerva, let us not worry ourselves too much. Let us all gather in the staffroom and put our heads together and try to solve it in the best way we can".

The four teachers had waited for the others to join in while sipping tea and having refreshments, something each one of them needed, after hours of walking agitated and worried through the length and breadth of their Medieval castle.

* * *

**Durmstrang Institute for Magical Learning,  
at the borders of Norway and Sweden**  
Late January, 1960

Igor Karakroff, the young apprentice of Defense against Dark Arts, found his fellow apprentice and former classmate, Anastasia Krum in one of the higher, least frequented corridors of the ancient castle. Karakroff had honoured her heart's desire and had called off their intended engagement. Almost everyone knew about Rohirim Cel Cazut and her friendship. Since the tall and gangly wizard from Romania had appeared in their lives, nothing had remained the same for any of them. He was unassuming yet there was something about him, that made every resident of the castle tread around him with caution.

It was too early in the morning for the witch wrapped in red fur to be up and about. Even if he was no longer her betrothed, yet he had remained a long-standing friend of both the brother and the sister. Igor had at the same time, recognized a kindred soul in Cel Cazut, even if they could never become thick friends.

Standing a few paces away from the witch looking out of the bay window, Karakroff watched the dawn approach for a while. Turned his head towards her, he greeted softly, "Tasia, Good Morning. Early morning?"

The young woman with deep chocolate hair tied into a braid and coiled into a perfect bun whispered, "Never slept last night actually."

"Why so? What is the matter?" The man was alert and watchful, eyeing her from head to toe.

"A dream. I saw a baby floating over a snow-covered graveyard and thousands of ravens circling it in an effort to lift it off the ground. Below it on the snow, I saw _his face_, white, sicky blue. But his obsidian eyes were full of life. I couldn't quite make anything out of it," the witch huffed and shivered in frustration.

"Cel Cazut, " Karkaroff sighed in understanding.

"Yes, I know both Vasil and you are trying to look for him, ever since Father was murdered," she said.

Bowing his head, Igor reasoned," None of us blame him for Lord Krum's death. Rather, we think, Cazut's magic was protecting him from the forces that tried killing him."

"My father was killed by the Snake Woman. The same one that had killed Cazut's parents. The ministry and the British Magical Aurors along with their American colleagues can pin it on Grindelwald, but he did not kill him. Both Vasil and I saw those puncture marks on his torso, before they morphed into regular spell wounds." Anatasia snapped at her fellow apprentice.

"Cazut might be unsure of his lineage Igor, but he is a proud man. My family owes him a lot. My father had forgotten all about it perhaps, but we can't. The least we all can do to continue searching for that witch," she said looking back through the window with determination gleaming in her eyes.

Next to her the DADA apprentice sighed and hummed. Feeling slightly guilty, she shared yet another thought troubling her since she had woken up,"I have a feeling Darkness will descend upon us once again. We cannot let the enemy get to the Snake Woman and neither can we stop looking for Cel Cazut. We will need him on our side..." she paused and narrowed her eyes, watching the distant snow-clad peaks minutely.

"What is it, Tasia?" Igor asked. Following her line of sight, he too tried to look for something out of place among the mountains that run around the School.

"Can you hear it?" She asked with wide eyes.

"Hear what?" Moving closer to the glass window, he tried to listen harder.

"The mountain is singing and humming to itself," The witch whispered in awe.

* * *

A/N: I am including a lot of the new characters that were not there in JKR's world. I hope, against hope, you will still read the story.


	16. Chapter 15

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 15**

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry  
Scotland_

_30 January 1960_

When those strange sounds had started coming from every brick of the castle, a thirteen-year-old, third year, short and tiny girl, with long black hair, curling up at the ends, tied up with one bowstring, was sitting among her Ravenclaw housemates, already done with her little lunch, waiting patiently for the others to complete. The quiet Irma Pince, the tiny little sister of one quite decorated passed out Hufflepuff, Iris Pince, was always mentioned very briefly in any conversation within her housemates. The one small clause that thoroughly defined her was, "She hoards books and information in her little head like dragons hoard gold." Without her sister, Irma was like a lost puppy. But given the underlying vindictive nature of her ambitious housemates- she tried hard at not showing just how much she missed a faithful company.

Irma Pince, being a fatherless child, had quite quickly understood that life was not a fair player and one should think, plan and then step through its apparently friendly but viciously thorny rose garden, very cautiously. Her world thus was quite small. Her mother Aida Pince who just knew all answers to her endless list of queries, who dotted on her daughters without any discrimination and who allowed each one of them to flourish even when the society was so disapproving.

When Irma was not buried in books, not doing homework or not revising for tests and exams, she was either having some interesting dialogue with the Ravenclaw resident ghost The Grey Lady, or simply staring outside the windows of the Ravenclaw tower, enjoying the way nature unfolded itself with the passing hours. Her only other companion was a soot coloured pygmy owl, Botin. The Grey lady was rather fond of this peculiar little raven of hers. She would find it amusing to prick at her brain and would love to be surprised just how intelligently the girl would retaliate. To the Hogwarts teachers, she was neither present nor absent. She was around, quiet, and diminutive. The only time that she got summoned at the Headmaster's office was when she had sent a rather nasty hex, at a fifth year Gryffindor, for sneaking food inside the "sacred library" and wiping his slimy hands on one of its book covers.

Much to Albus's amusement, the tiny tot had, in her defense, launched upon a passionate discourse about how in many ways, food, if brought in contact with rare books, scrolls and parchments were detrimental in their preservation. Even Minerva had to discreetly cover her face to hide her growing smile and the charms professor, Flitwick, had puffed up like a turkey, at his wards' dedication.

Only a certain Lawrence Flintstone had found the situation getting worse and worse for himself. Not only had he lost considerable points for his house he was also barred from the library for a fortnight. In addition to that, he had detention with Apolloyn Pringle, the caretaker, for a month. The worse, each time he would stare at the mirror, the words "Stinky Slimy Stone" would appear in thick black ink right across his temple. Each and every time, he would close a book with a thud, dog-ear a page of any book, or even stuff books into his school bag without care, the same three words would appear, turning him into a laughing stock for the entire population of the school. Though the fellow Gryffindor's tried to stand beside their disgraced housemate, even they couldn't come up with a proper logical defense to prove the Ravenclaw as unjust.

After close inspection, Madam Irene Moonstone had simply asked a rather disheartened Flintstone to let it wear off on its own. Many took lessons from the incident and stayed away from Irma Pince. Even those who were considering warming up to the idea of consulting her about voluntary research work chose the tedious task of finding information in a long-haul way- "sacred library" all by themselves.

A week later both the headmaster and the headmistress were tackled by the librarian, Madam Margaret Newteye, "I am getting too old for all this, and now that you do have someone in the making to replace me, I will resign in a couple of years to come. "

"But Margeret…" Albus Dumbledore had been truly shocked.

"Is something the matter, Margaret?" Minerva had sounded genuinely concerned on behalf of the strict Hogwarts Librarian.

"No, and before you both start jumping down my throat, I assure you, I am fine and quite healthy. But I need to retire. I have been in this place for a long time, I was thinking if I could simply move out and seclude myself in my late father's Sussex cottage, leading a quiet life. With books and with the idyllic country life. I truly want that, and, now that I have found a replacement…"

Albus had cut her mid-way- "Replacement, Margaret, you are seriously hunting for someone and I did not know of it?"

"Oh! Albus, don't get yourself all wind up, at the drop of your hat! Now, where was I? Oh! Yes, replacement- why? Both of you know her, and will surely deem her absolutely cut out for the job?"

"Who?"- both the headmaster and deputy headmistress had asked in unison, confusion eked in their features.

"Why, Miss Irma Pince! And before you both, laugh it out, you will listen to me. That girl will someday turn into a formidable woman. A woman who loves those million stacks of books in our library with her dear life. A library which she herself regards as a sacred place. I can bet a sack of galleons; she is apt for the job."

"But she is now a third-year student." Minerva had interjected.

"No, No, my dear Minerva, now a student, tomorrow an apprentice and day after tomorrow the esteemed Librarian of Hogwarts, am I going right, Madam Newteye? Albus Dumbledore looked up at the present librarian with a little tease in his voice, a twinkle in his eyes.

"Precisely so, Headmaster!"- she replied with a perfectly executed wink.

A satisfied, Madam Newteye had patted the back of a now coughing Minerva and had swayed away from the headmaster's office.

Minerva found her voice after recovering from her embarrassing fit of cough and dared to ask, "Are the rumors…?"

"That Marge and I were a thing back in schooldays, oh! Minnie, we were Head Boy and Head Girl and we just had three annual dance balls to conduct. And my dear, you are aware of the infamous invisible Hogwarts Rumour Mill, aren't you?

As, for Irma, a howler had dropped at her breakfast bowl of porridge, a week after she had hexed Flintstone. She had squared her eyes at it and then swiftly opened it without much ado.

The voice of one overbearing mother hen, Mrs. Flintstone has rattled and shrieked, "You, how dare you, torture my poor Rancy! I will get you…"

Irma had swiftly aimed her wand at the red envelope- and had softly uttered, "Incendio".

The letter burnt in the air, she had meanwhile grabbed an apple, her meal thoroughly ruined after all, and had quietly walked up the Gryffindor table to one offended, and red in the face, Mr. Flintstone.

Handing him over a little parchment, she had quietly said, "In case your mother wishes to continue further correspondence, here is _my_ mother's current address."

With that, she had walked out of the dumbstruck hall.

* * *

**Dragon's Kelp, Appalachian Mountains**  
30 _January, 1960_

Placing the journal reverently on the Kelp Mistress's office desk, Cel Cazut looked once at the pristine face of Healer Verus Umphrey and then looked back at Matre Solveig.

Rubbing his face with his hands, he once looked out of the window and noticed his familiar Hidos, perched on the ledge peering back at him with interest.

When the man spoke, Healer Umphrey realized that perhaps whatever had happened last night had exhausted and aged him further.

"When I first came to Haerlmrock Gallows, the first thing I noticed was the ruins of the Pryenso Villa. I couldn't quite make out the pillars of the Blake Halls or what was left of it until Isobe and Eugene chanced upon me and happily gave me the whole tour of the dismal place. I was not prepared to hear the cry of the souls of the long dead. The fishermen at the muggle shores who helped me in crossing the Mist, told me tales of Horror of the place. But instead, every corner was begging me to be their path of redemption," turning towards the Kelp Mistress, the young wizard openly wept," I took a week to gather the courage to approach you. I had to be certain they were calling for me!"

"Wasn't that brooch enough to give you a headway, Master Cazut?" Healer Umphrey asked. Noticing that the man was about to panic he quickly added," We have been together at the infirmary treating the ill, talking about potions and also down at the dragon nests, caring for the ailing beasts. I did notice it in the first couple of months since you arrived. Did you not wonder why when every other person was doubting your credibility, I allowed my daughter to hop about and prattle around you?"

Matre Solveig had nodded at the young wizard in support while Healer Umphrey continued to explain, bringing out a large granite basin from his case, which Cazut had failed to notice earlier," Master Cazut, all those years ago, I did something without asking your permission."

"What?" the man eying the black basin stammered.

"I delved into your thoughts and watched the remnants of your dreams and nightmares. I came to Matre Solveig and informed her that I could finally see in you what both Naireen and she could see when you had first set your foot on the Teeth. I agreed with them that you meant no harm, rather you were trying to find out the same clues to the grand puzzle we all were desperately trying to solve," Verus Umphrey surmised with a soft smile.

"But then?" Confused and out of his depth, Cel Cazut looked over at Solveig Kolbuck for further confirmation.

"As to why didn't we push you hard enough to confess... because we were aware how far broken you were when you arrived at these ancient shores. Now, if all we have managed to quench your thirst for the truth, can we all delve in that dream of yours?" Her eyes shone with such rare kindness, that Cazut couldn't help but agree.

* * *

Madam Margaret Newteye and Madam Irene Moonstone and Mr. Lawrence Flintstone are all my brainchildren.

Botin- is female messenger in German


	17. Chapter 16

Not much is mentioned about Severus Snape's early life or birth. So, I am trying to tell it in my own way. It was out of a whim that I turned Irma Pince as Snape's relative. This time around, I am planning to finish it. I could have taken down the entire thing, but I didn't wish to lose those valuable reviews.

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 16**

_Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft  
30th January 1960,_

Irma Pince was sitting by the window sill, her legs tucked below her Ravenclaw robes, her pygmy owl, Botin, dozing near the edge of her knees. She had her latest edition of '_Hogwarts: A History_' open on her lap, the chapter on how Hogwarts was founded staring back at her. But the girl was looking out of the window, her eyes lazily tracing the outlines of the forbidden forest. It was dusk. Soon enough, the whole world outside would drown itself in pitch-black darkness. She could hear the constant hum of the castle, vibrating at equal intervals. Like? Like, a pendulum of a grandfather's clock? Reynold Johnson, a half-blood fellow housemate, had shown her an image of those big clocks and Irma found them too commonplace and space consuming.

The Ravenclaw common room decked in its royal colors of gold and blue, the carpet studded with stars, the ceiling reflecting the night sky, and bookcases paneled all-around- a serene and idle paradise for an intellectual. With bay windows that brought the sky so close by- it was everything that a spirited bird could ask for. But not today. Today, even the air was whistling caution. The fellow housemates were whispering quietly among themselves. Their faces were gloomy. It was not hard to imagine, that perhaps few of the many colorful and fascinating rumors that would invade the school corridors, tomorrow was getting born right now, under the starry night of this tower.

"Perhaps, it's a troll, trapped in the very foundation of the school building." Rebecca Hamilton, third year suggested. It was expected of her anyways. She had a keen interest in magical creatures.

"Oh, not a snorting troll, but a monster, surely, yes, it has to be a monster," Stuart Jenkins, fourth year, added theatrically.

"Or the ghosts of elves, perhaps," his classmate Fabian Duncan said, pushing his glass up his bony nose.

"_Hogwarts: A history _has no mention of this!" Susan Norman, fifth Year charms genius opposed from the other side.

Irma had enough. She had heard enough of these speculations for the last couple of hours. Utter nonsense. Baseless, none of those floating theories had any valid proof to substantiate them. She shook her head nonchalantly. She had exhausted reading the remaining history-related books she had secluded in her trunk. She would come back to reading those stacked in the bookcases around the common room, once it was less populated.

She got down from the padded seat, grabbed her book satchel, and lazily made her way through the crowded room, heading for her dorm room. Botin had felt her mistress's uneasy and perched herself at her shoulder. She was about to make her way up the stairs to the girl's dormitory, when her fingers touched the tapestry narrating a tragic tale of love and sacrifice- one of Helena and Bloody Baron- perhaps. Irma suddenly stood rigid. Very, very slowly, she turned and scanned the whole room, then, kneeled on the steps as if to tie her shoelaces. Why would a pureblood witch need to tie her shoelaces?! She looked about again, made sure no one was paying her much attention. Secretly, tipping the end of her wand at herself, she whispered the disillusionment spell and dissolved into the background.

None of the excited and agitated students stressed with the sudden locked up condition, noticed the tapestry beside the stairs to the girls' dormitory move a quarter, and then dropped back against the wall. Botin had smartly flown off the nearest open window, to his own spot at the Owlery, for a nap, happy, her mistress had found a way to keep her disquiet mind busy.

The sun had eventually gone down, and so had several hours passed by. But a girl with long black hair, sat hunched by a bay window, tomes of books all around her, ferociously scaling through pages after pages, without a care for the world around. Sometimes, mumbling to herself, sometimes, biting the tip of her index finger, a habit- she couldn't do away with.

Irma was far, far away from the present time. She was once living among ancient goblins, who fought a war with wizards, conspiring at Hogsmeade inn. Or she was laying the foundation of the very school with the founders. But nothing absolutely nothing gave her a hint to latch onto. That odd sound had meanwhile been there sometimes, prominent, and sometimes so dull and so soft, that one had to literally place their ears against a wall, or lay down on the floor with ears touching the tiles to listen to it. But that sounded so familiar, and Irma could vouch on her memory, she had never forgotten anything she had come across, but for this little niggling detail.

"Nothing in _Confronting the Faceless_\- so it is not some kind of animal below the school foundation, there goes Stuart's Jenkins theory," she pushed away that one and grabbed the next only to shove it aware with care of course after forty minutes. Dreadful Denizens of the Deep turned out to be thoroughly focussed on sea creatures. Creatures? Creature, why was she thinking about creatures of all the things! Huffing to herself, she scowled at the next book close to her elbow and heaved a frustrated sigh, and thought, '_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_, really will I find it in there?'

* * *

That was just how the Hogwarts librarian, Madam Newteye found the third year, secluded at one far end of the library after dinner. There was quite a hassle in the Great Hall, but the Headmaster had tried his best to assure the students and the staff alike, that the situation was being handled with care. And that the students did not require to panic unnecessarily. Their safety was as always, the school's top priority. The dinner was cut short, since the Minister of Magic, Ignautis Tuft, and his secretary- Rayn Crickerly, with a retinue of Aurors had dropped by without prior notice. The headmaster including the heads of the houses, with the minister and Aurors were now perhaps having a heated debate at the headmaster's gargoyle guarded tower office. No one knew though who had tipped the Ministry or the Auror department off.

Madam Newteye for a whole two minutes had stood quietly beside the stacks of ancient runes books eyes trained at the rule-breaking girl. But the 'culprit" was yet to notice the change in her immediate scenario.

"Miss Pince?"

Irma was so shocked to hear a voice so close in the so quiet library, that she had dropped her book, and stood up with a start, wands drawn and pointed at the librarian, a spell nearly reaching the seams of her lips.

"As commendable it is to be vigilant at times like this, I don't like to be at the receiving end of a student's wand, at any occasion, put that away, girl!"

"Oh! Forgive me, Madam, I was just lost in thought.' Irma had genuinely been sorry and looked down at her shoes after tucking her wand away.

"Apology accepted. May I know, why of all the students, you are loitering in the library? Did you forget the Headmaster's strict orders?"

"No! I was in my common room for most parts of the day, but madam, you must understand that these sounds, they are not normal, I have a feeling that I do know, seriously I strongly believe, I know what they are but I can't put my finger on it."- Irma trailed off.

After a moment's consideration, the elderly witch gave the student a curt nod.

"I should be docking points, but I will leave that to your Head of the House. As of now, you can stay but for half an hour."

With that the librarian swayed after, her robes swishing across the wooden floor.

Once at her seat, Margaret Newteye was thoughtful. _Albus would not object. I might not be privy to what storm is getting cooked at his office now. But at a time like this we do need all eyes on deck. But the girl's safety is a priority no doubt. I do have a lot of cataloging to do right now_. Deciding her next course of action, she whispered, "Grey Lady, I would like to ask for little help regarding a Raven of yours."

The shimmering apparition of the grey lady, the resident ghost of the Ravenclaw house materialized through the door of the library a little later, a brief nod from her suggested the librarian did have her attention.

"Miss Irma Pince is at the library and will soon be sent off to her common room. Please inform her head of the house about this development."

The Grey Lady, also known to be the ghost of the castle that never talked to anyone, gasped sharply at recognition," Irma, here!"

And then she simply departed with a swish of her gown.

Madam Newteye sat still at her table, her mouth open and jaw hanging. Never in all her years at Hogwarts, both as a student and as a librarian did she get to hear the voice of the Grey lady, even after being a passionate Ravenclaw.

About twenty minutes, later Irma made her way out of the library thanking the curious librarian profusely. While the latter had left her at her table to finish off with reading the book she had at hand, for some more minutes, Irma had hastily scribbled a letter on a spare parchment to her mother. Whenever she had a doubt, she would approach her mother. One could confidently say, Aida Pince made sure never to disappoint her youngest daughter.

* * *

Madam Margaret Newteye and Madam Irene Moonstone and Mr. Lawrence Flintstone are all my brainchildren.

Botin- is female messenger in German


	18. Chapter 17

Not much is mentioned about Severus Snape's early life or birth. So, I am trying to tell it in my own way. It was out of a whim that I turned Irma Pince as Snape's relative. This time around, I am planning to finish it. I could have taken down the entire thing, but I didn't wish to lose those valuable reviews.

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 17**

_Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft  
30th January 1960,_

A 7th-year prefect Poppy Pomphrey, Hufflepuff, was hurriedly making her way towards the library. At dinner, a rather harried 6th year Ravenclaw prefect, Thomas Twotoes, approached her, asking if she had seen her friend, Irma Pince after lunch. Poppy was most surprised and worried. Iris Pince was her senior, dear friend, and mentor in her house, and Irma was just like a sister to her. Though the latter was sorted into a different house, there was always a healthy competition between the badger and the eagle, unlike the bloody battle, those snakes and griffins waged throughout the castle.

Her face lit up in a bright smile when Poppy saw an unharmed and as thoughtful as ever Irma, walk out of the library closing its door behind her. She schooled her features immediately and wore a rather realistic scowl on her face. "And you have been, where exactly?"

Irma was both happy and a little apprehensive to see Poppy. Happy because she now had someone to walk her to the entrance of the Ravenclaw common room. And apprehensive, because Poppy was appointed as a prefect this year, and like any true Hufflepuff, she was just and loyal to the core. The younger student was about to come up with an excuse, when decisively her stomach growled aloud.

Poppy raised one palm and uttered " Don't say a word!"

Next she ushered an embarrassed and blushing Irma to a nearby empty classroom. Once the door was locked with a swift spell and two desks cleared off settled dust, Poppy brought out a parcel she had been carrying so long, in her robe pockets. It was a decent meal- half a loaf, some shepherd's pie, a small portion of roasted chicken, and a muffin for dessert. Next, she brought out a little flask- which had pumpkin juice inside. For water, her wand had already conjured up a goblet, and a precise Aguamenti spell had filled it up with water.

Now, signaling to the diner spread, Poppy arched an eyebrow up and simply ordered Irma, "Sit and eat. All of it".

Irma wiped her eyes. She couldn't quite believe someone would be so considerate. After whispering a "thank you" she diligently began ravishing the meal. Poppy sat in front of her studying the girl minutely. She, like the rest of the castle, referred to her as "the tiny girl" behind her back. But the Hufflepuff was sure her Ravenclaw friend cum sister was quite far ahead than the rest of them. She was both intuitive, observant, and mature. She fought her own battles, stood at her own grounds, never wavering for a bit. All of these impressed the Hufflepuff spirit in Poppy Pomphrey. She was just short in structure, and that cannot be classified under dwarfism.

While in the first year, Irma had accidentally walked too close to the Whomping Willow, and the vengeful tree had tossed the girl in the air. Its branches had cut through her robes and dress and the way she had landed, in turn got her two ribs broken and a leg and an arm twisted and dislocated. Poppy had witnessed the whole incident, and it was her singular interest in Healing charms and her desire to pursue Medi Witchcraft, that she had known the required spells, to limit the damage. Irma had been whimpering in pain when the elder student had righted her wet and bloody hair. She had surely cut open a wound back there as well. The Hufflepuff had muttered a stupefy and had inspected the small wound on the side of the girl's head. That was dealt with a shaky mending charm.

A thoughtful petrificus totalus and mobicorpus later, Poppy had led the unconscious girl hurriedly through the large entrance door of the School and into the infirmary as swiftly as her legs could. Her timely aid had not only got her applauds from her head of the house, Madam Sprout, but even the deputy headmistress and the headmaster had appreciated her efforts. She had bagged a total of fifty points for her act. But Poppy would treasure more the opportunity she got from Madam Moonstone- to be inducted into the apprenticeship program she had formulated for Iris Pince, once Poppy would become a 7th-year student.

"It's getting tiring, Pops", Irma said with a bored voice,while sipping her last gulp of Pumpkin juice.

A baffled Poppy looked back confused, "What?"

"You, staring at me, thinking, Merlin knows what? And grinning like a sap."

"Oh! You better be quiet. I am not done with you yet."

"Pops, I meant no disrespect, I just couldn't sit quietly at the common room, doing nothing, and those sounds coming from the castle. I had a hunch- "

"And you had to visit "the sacred library"- so pray, tell me- did your many books whisper hymns of knowledge back to you?"

"Stop that silly act- and No, they didn't, at least not yet. Therefore, I wrote back home, "patting her pocket where the letter lay tucked in, "and Mother will have something positive to say, I suppose."

Poppy had heard how well-read Aida Pince was, and she too agreed that maybe the older lady could throw some light, until the teachers tell them what they have found out.

Just close to curfew hour, Poppy Pomfrey and Irma Pince climbed up the stairs to the Ravenclaw common room.

A landing away from the Tower entrance, Irma stopped, turned towards her companion and asked," Pops, do you believe everything that's written in the books?"

The other was quite surprised by her question. Grabbing hold of the girl's shoulder she asked thoroughly concerned," I can't believe you are asking this question Irma, what about putting your trust in books! They never fail to teach you! What's wrong?"

"Urm, well, you know, books are written by people like us. Surely none of us have read, heard or experienced every single magical thing in this universe?"

"That's philosophical. But what is it you are trying to tell me here, Irma?" the Hufflepuff prefect tilted her head with interest.

"Well, if Dumbledore, Professor Flitwick or any of the teachers are honestly clueless about this humdrum the castle is making. I can guess because none of the teachers have briefed us as of yet...if the books in the Hogwarts Library or in the Ministry have nothing to provide us...I mean what if we never heard of such a thing before because, nobody ever experienced it before! As if this is a new thing happening or perhaps it is too old for anyone to sit and write about it!" the Ravenclaw waved her hands in exasperation.

Poppy stared at the girl with sympathy and stirred her up the stairs saying," Now, Now, all I can understand, young lady, is that you are in need of a whole night's rest. You got too much information cramped out in that little head of yours in a day's time! Sleep it in, take deep breaths, relax, okay?"

"Pops, I got a mother and an elder sister to mollycoddle me, but I do give you a pass now and then. Just don't overuse the privilege, prefect or not," Irma sneered but she was yawning already.

The brass knocker with the eagle head looked down at the Ravenclaw and tersely asked the riddle, "What works every day but never gets tired?"

Irma quietly replied "The Sun."

The door swung open. The Ravenclaw bid her rescuer a pleasing good night. She was about to turn to retire for the night when Poppy playfully grabbed her shoulder and whispered, "3 points from Ravenclaw for being ensconced in the library."

Irma looked up to her and with a sweet smile returned, "I did break rules, Pops. And I have Professor Flitwick to meet as well. I am sure he will be disappointed too. So, here goes, some more points flying out of the window."

Professor Flitwick had just come out of his chambers with both the Ravenclaw Prefect Twotoes and The Grey Lady trailing behind him. Finding a perfectly healthy Irma near the common room entrance, the party gave up on the thought of visiting the library. Instead, they walked up to the two girls.

Filius Flitwick dealt with his students, not like Minerva or Horace. He would both award and deduct points after making the students decide whether they really were guilty enough. His logic so far had never failed to discipline the little ravens. That logic presides in the court of the just and intellect- a Ravenclaw un-codified motto, which many pass outs till this day recalled fondly.

Both the girls wished the half-goblin Charms professor, "Good afternoon sir" and to Grey Lady, "Good Afternoon".

"Good Afternoon, Miss Pince and Miss Pomphrey." Turning to the 7th year perfect, the professor thanked her, for her thoughtfulness. Turning to Miss Pince, he just huffed.

Irma had the manners to address the situation well enough. She started with a polite apology and then explained her discomfiture in the entire situation. Professor Flitwick was rather proud.

"Regarding the whole situation as quite a putout, I will leave you with a mild warning this time, Miss Pince. "

As expected, his student bowed her head in resignation and meekly answered, "Yes, professor."

Flitwick added with a mirth dancing in his voice, "2 points awarded for being not up to some mischief".

"Mister Twotoes, please see it and Miss Irma truly gets back to her dorm. Miss Pomphrey, come along, I am on my way to the kitchens, I will escort you to your dorms as well."

* * *

Twotoes and Johnson, Moonstone, and the minister's secretary are my brainchildren.

The Ravenclaw clue was prompted by Ashleigh Meyer(What works every day but never gets tired?)- (sun)- she frequents at the Ravenclaw group at FB.


	19. Chapter 18

Not much is mentioned about Severus Snape's early life or birth. So, I am trying to tell it in my own way. It was out of a whim that I turned Irma Pince as Snape's relative. This time around, I am planning to finish it. I could have taken down the entire thing, but I didn't wish to lose those valuable reviews.

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 18**

**EVENSTAR**

Evenstar, still evenstar

If this twilight thou dost shine

On a more unhappy head,

On tears lonelier than mine,

Vainer prayers and deepest sighs,

Take, sweet spirit, thou that art

Comforter of our despairs

All the prayers perforce unsaid,

All the sighs I cannot sigh,

All the tears I cannot shed;

Fill his eyes and flood his heart,

Who, my everlasting kin,

Broods, afar, unknown, apart.

Bring, ah bring him that surcease

From unsolaceable pain,

Which nor prayers, nor tears, nor sighs,

No, nor even the divine

Presence of thy eternal peace

Can, O evenstar, make mine.

**~Robert Nichols~**

**Mayfair Nursing Home,  
Cokeworth, England  
**_January 1960_

Three years old, Petunia Evans pretended to sleep, tucked in the arms of her father. She couldn't afford to fall asleep not when something so special was going to happen any moment now. She was not so sure, whether Santa would make a return trip just to drop that special gift Mum and Dad were so eagerly looking forward to for the past couple of months. She wouldn't bet her favorite popsicles with Sam, her buck-toothed neighbor either because he strongly believed storks carried babies in bundles and dropped them in Mums' and Dads' lap. If storks were to do all the job, why would Mum have to see the grinning doctors at this odd hour? She scolded herself when she nearly missed her Mum whispering her father's name.

"Steve…"

"Yes, Rosie? Do you want me to get someone? Are you…," shifting the sleeping girl in his lap the man leaned forward to listen closely to his exhausted wife's words. He was a little relieved to at least see her smile at him.

"No, love, I..just think, I know...this one is special. She is going to be the blessed one." Rosemary Evans beamed even if she was tard uncomfortable.

"Rosie, are you saying exactly what I think you are trying to tell me?" the man with stubble gaped at his wife in awe, then looked at her swollen belly. He stared back deep into her green eyes and fondly whispered in a choked voice," Then I guess, we are the blessed ones. We will do everything in our capacity to fulfill her wishes, everything to bring the gift of Magic back into our lives, isn't that your Grand Aunt asked for?"

"Yes, Steve, that's what she wished for, the only thing she ever wished for! It will be an honour to be her parents!" she gasped and grabbed at his outstretched hand.

On 30th January 1960, Lily Evans was born just close to the afternoon. She came to the world precisely at twelve past fifteen, at Mrs. Mayfair's, a little upper-end Nursing home at Cokeworth, with a hearty cry, suggesting she was a fighter through and through. But the moment the tiny baby opened her green eyes and looked at the world with a small welcoming toothless smile, she had her father and mother securely wrapped around her tiny little finger for sure.

Their other, three years older, Petunia Evans, had suddenly started feeling like a left out. Mr. and Mrs. Evans did share a meaningful, that perhaps meant, here was the daughter, they were meant to be parents of. A daughter who was deemed to be a magical being, for magic ran in their blood dormant and quiet and that she was meant to become quite famous.

Three years old Tuny had her eyes glued at the three other members of her family. That excitement with which she had rushed into her mother's maternity ward twin suite, was slowly getting replaced with a feeling of hurt, disappointment, and envy. She had a little handmade card for her new baby sister held in one of her palms, which she secretly hid behind her back.

After a whole ten minutes, when her parents were hardly looking up at her, but had all their attention at that bundle with red hair and a tiny nose, peeking out- Petunia slowly walked out and sat at the nearest waiting chair. The new sister was slowly grabbing and feeding at the lion's share of affection and attraction, which for so long only flowered at Petunia's behest.

Fiddling with the edge of the small card with glitters and sparkling stars, the little girl, sniffed and mumbled," Is she more special than me? Will mum and dad like her more? What's so special about her?" The toddler did make out the pink face and puffy eyelids and the tiny fists and concluded her Nancy, her lovable chubby doll was far healthier than the newborn with that spikey mop of red hair. For a moment she remembered, Sam's parents would be arriving shortly and take her away along with them. She was to stay with them until Grandpa and GrandMum arrived at Cokeworth by the evening train. There was a blizzard last time, by morning the whole town was covered with fresh white snow.

A rather large Raven flew up to the nearest sealed window and was curiously peering at her, tilting its head left and right and at times bobbing it as well. His jaded black feathers and coat stood out against the milky white world glittering outside. The crestfallen girl stood, then crumbling the card into a fist, threw it, after taking a calculated aim at the bird sitting at the other side of the window.

She stomped her feet and hissed at it angrily," Go away! Shoo, fly off!"

But what a mere girl of three couldn't quite make out, what any of the muggles in this snow-covered town couldn't quite realize, Nature and many of her animals and birds could sense. It was as it, the freshly born beating heart could call them in unison. It was rare, perhaps the rarest of the rare magical manifestation of the empathetic soul.

The Raven ignored the small girl who was now joined by her father. It flew to the next window and peered inside. There, right in the lap of a smiling mother was the baby, it was searching for. Sensing someone else too was watching it, the raven turned and pecked its beak at the glass window. The small girl, most definitely the jealous sibling was scowling again.

Without wasting any time, it flew off thinking and chuckling to itself, _You don't stand a chance to outshine such Old Magic, Sneering Girl. You can hate it, but you can't do much about it!'_

* * *

**Dragon's Kelp, Appalachian Mountains,  
January, 1960**

Eyeing the granite basin, Rohirim Cel Cazut cleared his throat and asked," Correct me, if I am wrong, Healer Umphrey, isn't that a pensive?"

He saw both Matre Solveig and the healer exchange an amused look, then the Kelp Mistress explained," Yes, it is but, it can do more than just help you rewatch memories."

When the potioneer furrowed his eyes, Verus Umphrey explained further," A pensive is just the means through which we can see a glimpse of one's mind. But more can be accomplished through it. You can see fragments of your dreams, you can look deeper into your subconscious mind. Extracting thoughts and memories and watching it in a pensive is the easiest process."

"And the most difficult?" Cel Cezut could stop himself from asking.

Solveig smiled and replied," Study cosmic magical resources. Understand how they are manufactured and how they will perish away and give way to newer energies. Everything around us is much like a phoenix."

"Matre you mean, Cosmic Magic can cyclically regenerate itself or obtain new form by arising from the ashes of its predecessor? And we can study it?" the pale man's eyes flickered with interest and eagerness to learn something new.

Nodding in agreement she finished off,"Even one can study Time and Space. A seer's glass bowl is a controlled medium, whereas a witch or a wizard who has the capacity to control greater forms of magic can achieve the same with a pensive."

"I see, so you are certain that you can see into my dreams?" he looked once at Healer Umphrey and readily corrected himself," Well, you said you had already done that? How come... I mean I could never feel or guess?"

Solveig sighed," Cazut, there were many things that made me certain about your heritage, lineage and your magic. Neither the Kelp nor the Gallows allow outsiders to step on its lands, fly above it. Though we don't know for certain whether you are a descendant of Blake or Pyrenso. But we believe you are worthy enough to settle in the Gallows. Magic allowed you to do that. The fact that you are able to befriend the Dragons made us aware of several other things."

Healer Umphrey brought out a ceramic jug and started pouring fresh water into the empty basin. He added," You were not afraid or intrigued by them. You regarded them with honour and respect. The dragons look forward to seeing you, we could guess perhaps, you have met their long lost kins. Magic in these parts are withering away, but look at you. You remain unaffected. The ancient wards and the sacrifices of our forefathers protect us and our magic better than the Gallowers. But why would they simultaneously extend their protection to you?"

"You mean to say, ancient magic, the dragons and this whole place welcomed me all those years ago and still continue to consider me as their own because I mean something to them?" shuddering slightly Cazut asked in utter dismay.

"Indeed," The elder witch surmised.

Matre Solveig and Healer Verus Umphrey allowed both of their right hands to hover over the clear water of the black basin. With wide eyes and bated breath, Cazut watched the water start rippling, and then a steady whirlpool began to spiral up, off the brim.

"Now, I would want you to close your eyes and try to remember everything you can about the dream you saw last night. The process will be painless, but it might leave you quite exhausted. So, be prepared to spend the whole day confined to your bed fleeting in and out of sleep," Healer Umphrey assured and then asked for his permission," May I feel the pulse of your wand hand?"

For Cazut's sake, the man continued," I am going to call forth you magical resource and channel it into this swirling whirlpool. Matre Solveig will amplify the extent of it and we can watch the remnants of your dreams without having to plunge our heads into misty waters or vapours, I don't know which were the ones you read about."

"My school books mentioned mist, water and vapour. But I can understand it after all, everyone of it is a manifestation of air or water. So why can't the same be achieved by whirlpools," slightly absentminded, Cazut allowed the man to grab his wrist and tried to steady his nerves.

"Intuitive as ever, though whirlpools are feisty things to control, that is why they no longer feature in modern books. Not many of us can control it." Solveig held her palm up facing the small swriling column of the water and then said to the Healer," Ready, whenever you are."

Cazut jerked a little because all of a sudden he could hear the soft and friendly voice of Verus Umphrey inside his mind,'Fret not. It's me Verus. Relax. Now, why don't you show me the first few visions from your dream, Cazut. visa dina drömmar'

* * *

visa dina drömmar- in Swedish means Show your dreams


	20. Chapter 19

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 19**

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
30th January 1960,_

Thankfully the Minister of Magic, Ignautis Tuft, his secretary, Rayn Crickerly, young mister Reverend Shacklebolt, and his partner, Mister Readersthorne didn't stay around for long. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore didn't have much faith in Tuft, but one young mister Rayn Crickerly was someone he had taught.

Crickerly was sorted into the Slytherin house and over the time he proved himself to be quite smart and cunning. The boy had simply turned things to his favor. A half-blood, yet he survived in the dungeons of Hogwarts among the purebloods who fiercely held on to their ways of life. His ancestors were in the Business of Politics as Filius pointed out when the young man was first appointed to the post. Unsurprisingly, Albus would not be surprised if Rayn had minion spies in his school still.

Amidst debates and throwbacks, his floo connection came alive and few of the choicest Governors of the Board rather demanded to be present in the grand discussion. The moment Abraxas Malfoy stepped in, the Hogwarts professors knew who had ratted out. It was common knowledge that one young Miss Dorothy Lestrange harboured an uncanny affectation for the present Lord of Malfoy Manor. Currently, Miss Lestrange was one of the 7th years preparing to sit for her NEWTs. Nothing like telling an old flame how to grow into a bonfire that can at least burn down a portion of the present Headmaster's growing popularity.

Yet, wands miraculously remained in their concealed holsters. Even though the room full of grown men constantly came to loggerheads, lacked their gritting words with underlying threats, and challenged each other's intellect. The handful of witches watched them with wands close by. In the middle of all that Minerva McGonagall, was starting to have a biting headache, something she didn't have in many years. _That constant hum_ was having its cruel effect. '_Was it some kind of magic yet to be unearthed? It was now pulsating at a rhythm?'_ she thought.

As if reading her mind, the hum stopped. The men in the room were so engrossed in their bickering and repartee that it took a couple of moments for them to grasp the cause of sudden quietness. The Aurors in meantime returned with the caretaker, Apolloyn Pringle and Professor Horace at their toes. Beaming with confidence, Minister Tuft turned to young Shacklebolt and airily asked, "Seems like our esteemed Auror has fixed the glitch that shook this honorable castle to its knees, Ya? "

Shacklebolt, tall and dark, wore his no-nonsense attitude, in front of enemies and friends alike. Bowing to both Albus Dumbledore and to Minister Tuft, in a heavy accent, the young Auror replied, "It all went quiet, all by its own." Then, waving his hand at the others who too had been with him, he added, "We had nothing to do with it. I failed to ascertain the source and I have tried my best, much like Professor Flitwick had, before me."

All of them grew quiet after hearing the news. Having nothing else to do, the visitors were leaving all too soon. Flitwick murmured close to Minerva," When the vultures find no carcass to feast on, they look like them, I presume."

Madam Sprout leaned back in her chair and heaved a sigh commenting offhandedly, "Vultures, ah! Flitwick well said! Tuft too has a nose like one!"

Minerva, happy with the change in the atmosphere, snorted unlikely. Still massaging her temples with her fingers, she mumbled, "Reverend Shacklebolt did a good thing by bringing his son back to England after his wife's tragic death at Uagadou. The boy is just a year old and he has a newborn sister I heard. Their Granny has come along. There are times, I do feel sad for that family. Herald Macduff, our DADA professor speaks highly about the Auror. He is quite an icon among my Gryffindors as well."

Albus Dumbledore sat brooding behind his long desk. His eyes, distant and thoughtful. He studied his colleagues for a while. Scanning the portrait, he found Headmaster Armando Dippet's frame was empty. His predecessor was a wizard belonging to the old school of thoughts. Yet when transferring the charge of Headmastership of the School, the man had shared quite a number of valuable remarks with his successor.

Dumbledore, stroke his greying beard and thought, _'Headmaster Dippet was right about one thing. Someday, I would find myself in strange waters with this young band of professors. Perhaps, today can be counted as one. They don't know much about the castle. Neither can I boast about knowing everything about this sentient castle anymore! These vibrations...Merlin! I can only see till a point. Beyond that, the castle starts walling up itself. Much like a shy maiden. It is nothing like the troubled times when the chamber of secrets was opened. I don't feel the presence of foul magic. It is so pure that at times it makes me quite emotional.'_

Watching Minerva massage her temple, he narrowed his eyes and thought again,_'Can she sense something as well?'_ turning his eyes at Flitwick, he noticed the half goblin staring at him instead.

Shrugging off, the Headmaster took a deep breath and addressed to his personal elf, "Tuny, get us some refreshments, a little chocolate for each one of us, it will do us good."

A moment later a rather large service of tea, croissants, tarts, shortbreads and chocolate brownies had appeared. Since many of the professors could not manage a proper meal at dinner, almost all of them merrily dug into the appetizing food.

Once the empty plates and teacups vanished away, Dumbledore spoke again," While there is no immediate threat, we need to be vigilant. I have considered talking to some of the older wizards of my time to find out more. I hope you might as well consider looking up your contacts and even the Hogwarts library can be used intensely enough for figuring out this rather curious event."

"Taking all things into consideration, can we suppose it is the doing of some disgruntled spirit or a new poltergeist, surely Peeves can throw…" the Potions master Horace Slughorn was cut short by a disagreeing Madam Sprout.

"No, that is not the case. When earlier, Minerva and I had just left you at your office and were making our way back to where Albus and Filius were working, we encountered Peeves."

The transformation Professor seconded the opinion and joined in, "Or rather we encountered a cupboard rocking on its feet."

The quip was not missed and all of them started laughing at the expense of the out of hand resident Poltergeist.

"It took us quite an effort to open it, and soon, broomsticks were flying at us at lightning speed. Minerva just had the nerve to transform them into down feathers when we were about to get hit."

"Consider it as nothing Pomona, we were already on our toes. We found Peeves crouched at one dark corner inside the cupboard shivering in fright."

"Most peculiar, I must add, he was just going on and on, saying- "Awake, Awake, merlin is… awake!"

"Merlin!" The other three professors spoke at once and then everybody was talking together.

"Peeves has lost it."

"When did he actually have an ounce of it."

"I think we better leave that aside, for further reference. It was quite an odd day. We all are quite exhausted running up and down the castle and tackling with our esteemed visitors. Why don't we retire for the night and start afresh again?" Dumbledore spoke solemnly, the tiredness finally getting the best of him.

"I am sure the students would want to know something. "Professor Slughorn enquired.

"It is for the best, we tell them, we don't have a definite answer, but, as it stands, there is nothing to fear. Hogwarts stands protected as it has been for centuries together. I will change the rules just a bit so that the children don't start acting all to brave and carefree suddenly."

Getting up, Madam Sprout managed to control a yawn and said, "Good night Albus, Minerva, Filius, and Horace. I better head back, and see to it that my badgers are truly where they should be."

Horace just got up and bobbed his head at the four other occupants of the room left for his dungeon quarters.

"Albus, Goodnight." Minerva and Flitwick together left the office, closing the door behind them.

"You were rather quiet Filius, something on your mind?" Minerva asked the half-goblin master of charms, standing beside her. But the man remained quiet, still lost in his own thoughts.

"There are things in this world that we know of but do not acknowledge, things that are hidden in plain sight but we refuse to see and things that can bring us glory only when we leave aside our ego and embrace the truth," the half-goblin murmured under his breath when they were halfway down the Gargoyle staircase.

Had Minerva not been standing on the spiraling steps, exactly a step below, which brought her close to the charms professor face, she would have missed hearing most of it.

"Filius, what was it about?"

As if recovering from his thought induced trance, Filius looked up at the witch and blinked and then shrugged it all off with a wave of his hand. "Oh! Think nothing of it! Let us better hurry and check on the students, it will be a unique night if we don't find even one of them out of their bed. At least you cubs are daring enough." Giving her a teasing wink, the half-goblin walked away towards the Ravenclaw Tower, leaving a rather confused Deputy Headmistress standing alone at the feet of the Gargoyle statue.

* * *

Professor Flitwick was born around 1958. But I am making him much older, for the sake of my story. Names that you don't recognize from the Harry Potter world do not belong to it. I am taking full responsibility for my brainchildren. This chapter is one of those first pivotal head turners. I hope I did well enough to keep you all wanting, for more.


	21. Chapter 20

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 20**

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
30th January 1960_

When Professor Minerva McGonagall finally returned to her quarters for the night, it was indeed quite late. She was tired to the bones. That lingering headache was not doing anything to lift her moods either. The perfects for once had managed to rein in those feisty cubs of hers. Thankfully no one had set a foot out of their common rooms. She had met Sprout near the kitchen entrance. The Herbology Professor was equally exhausted but did manage to share," Even the badgers know when it's not viable to snoop around. Blimey! Quite a thing indeed, none of your cubs pouncing about!"

Minerva beamed at her colleague with pride," Not a single one of them, Pomona, I can manage to say the same for Horace's snakes. Those are all about Self Preservation. Though I am quite miffed with Dorothy LeStrange."

Sprout patted the Transfiguration professor's arm and tutted," Oh! Don't blame young and blind love! Poor thing, still can't see that git Abraxas is only playing with her, he is set to marry, I read in the Prophet only recently."

Muttering to herself as she walked up to her desk. Fishing out her charmed keys, McGonagall hissed," Like I give a care for what these Malfoys are up to! Cunning as they come,_ 'you will never find one at the scene of the crime, though their fingerprints might be all over the guilty wand.'_ Whoever said that is right till the last syllable. We also have The Prophet is inventing newer standards of degrading itself every day!"

Unlocking one of her drawers, she found her much needed Invigoration Draught potion. It was her last phial. She would have to go to the infirmary first thing in the morning tomorrow to replenish her personal stash.

What she was not expecting at all, was a knock at her door at this hour. She looked up at the portrait of "Louis"- her mother's long-dead familiar ginger kneazle, hung beside the door.

"Louis, would that be a student?"

The kneazle in the portrait peered at her and swished its tail with a flourish, indicating she could open the door. There was nothing harmful standing on the other side.

A swish of her wand later the door cracked open. Much to her surprise, she found the Charms professor standing at the threshold.

"Filius, you could have flooed…"

"There you are, yes I could have. But you see, my mind is not at rest, so I took a rather long walk. And it was quite surprising that one of my Ravens had gone missing."

"Who?"

"Ah! Miss Pince. She had sneaked out of the common room and was in the library nose deep in books, scrolls, and parchment. I might as well add, we have our voluntary researcher to our peculiar problem. Miss Pomphrey was escorting her back to the tower, as we were making us way to the library. Fine young woman, that bright Hufflepuff. Albus should start planning on inducting her as a mediwitch when the time comes."

Inviting the older teacher to an empty seat, Minerva chuckled, "And I must add, my cubes were rather well behaved, not one went pouncing at the sense of adventure. "

"Thanks to Merlin! I had that good fortune not to bet on that this time", Filius modified the chair to his personal comfort.

It was rather insulting, Minerva thought, to offer a stack of books as a seat placed above the chair seat so that the short professor could see above the table. The flickering lights of the fresh candles had thrown a good amount of light on the rather older colleague, and Minerva felt for the first time, age was indeed too difficult to defeat.

The older man removed his round golden rim spectacles and tapped his wand on their surface twice. A whiff of smoke and a tiny spray of some liquid later, he smirked at Minerva, bringing the now shining glasses close to his eyes.

Enjoying her surprised look, the old man barked a laugh and revealed rather proudly," Oh! That would be one of your cube's artistic inventions."

"One of mine, which one? Surely not Agustha Craggan?"

"The very same, smart lady, after all, isn't she a distant relative to Muldoon Cragg."

"Oh yes, our former Head of the House."

Flitwick was about to wear the spectacles over his nose when a rather odd glint of light reflected on its surface. Curious he looked about. Gauging the placement of the candles and assessing the room particularly, he looked over to the long bookcase that covered one of the walls of the transfiguration professor's maroon and golden chambers.

'_Indeed, the Scottish Witch was a hat staller. Minerva could have been a Ravenclaw, like a Hufflepuff, loyal, and just with her treatment, she does have Slytherin tendencies since she is well adapted to catching miscreants past curfew,'_ the half-goblin mused as he let his eyes lazily look over the rows of books and periodicals arranged neatly one beside the other.

'_AH! There! Right above the row of the periodicals, is a small gap, after which the rather heavy and older tomes are arranged meticulously,' _the Charms professor chuckled inwardly and studied it.

It was a round glass ball perched upon a range of handcrafted mountain edges. It was a small and unique showpiece. But the thing moving inside had shocked Filius Flitwick from his toes to the tip of his hair. Blinking his eyes, he desperately tried to hide his raging emotions,_' Why on earth would Minerva McGonagall keep a showpiece of a mythical dragon?'_

While the charms professor looked over to the transfiguration mistress with renewed interest, the latter had brought out two tumblers and was pouring some Ogden's firewhiskey into both of them. Handing one to the old wizard, she took a sip from her own glass and leaned back on her chair.

"So, what bothers you, apart from the buzzing and humming? You have never taken to so much walking, like Albus?" she asked genially.

"Old age does play quite many tricks on your mind, Minerva. But let us keep that aside. I rather have an interesting tale to share with you, if it is not too late for you that is." the other asked in return.

"No, not at all, Filius, please with due respect, carry on, I would prefer a tale, to those books, right at this moment, though don't tell that to anyone."

Barking a laugh, Filius Flitwick, arranged his robes and leaned back. Once comfortable and aware that he had the much younger transfiguration teacher's complete attention, he began.

"It is rather a folktale or a fairytale, that my mother would tell me, at bedtime. All other goblin kids knew of them of course. We would often have mock playacts among us, at our nanny homes, oh! Those are like your kindergarten schools. Homeschooling among goblins was popular, still, nanny homes were preferable."

"Anyways, so this tale was about dragons. Now, Minerva, don't squint your eyes like that. You must have heard about how the whole art of becoming an animagus came into being. And, I am not referring to those texts and periodicals. Magic is truly old and ancient. It goes way back than we have known proof of."

Turning his head, the half-goblin peered out into the dark and mysterious night, through one of the bay windows of the chamber. His eyes grew distant while the candles lights continued flicker against his glasses. But Minerva noticed the animated gaze trapped behind them.

"This was when the world was more together than as apart as it is today. In the highlands of the Scots and Gaels and of the isles of the Vikings and even in the forests of Rheine and those far off places in Europe, dragons lived like kings among other beasts. While dragons were there, there were also men from warrior tribes, magical folks, indeed. These men in order to tame and harness the power of these magical creatures had started working on their own magical core. Their interest was in morphing themselves into dragons, if possible. They thought they could study how magic courses through a dragon's body and how it utilizes that power in the process. Ah! I think from there the line comes, "a dragon's heart, helps to breathe magic", nonsense but theatrical. "

McGonagall smirked slightly, but tilted her head, asking the goblin to carry on mutely.

Clearing his throat, the latter complied, "Among these tribes of men, I think there were five, but could be more… there was one tribe that was first successful, in mastering the art of transfiguring themselves. It started within a family of three brothers and two sisters. Although goblins prefer to talk one brother in particular. The old goblin folks had great respect for him. He had saved a few of the prominent goblin colonies from the threats of rogue dragons that harnessed dark magic, vile creatures if you ask me. For his favors, and also seeing how he had no inhibition against other magical creatures, the goblin elders had gifted him with the "Saumohr's Teeth".

"We would make mock swords and would duel each other. But the real 'Saumohr's Teeth' is lost. Now that is quite later into the tale. Well, there were three brothers and two sisters as I said…" Filius stopped a moment to wet his throat with some of his firewhiskey, and Minerva refilled it once again, her mind enwrapped in the half goblin's strange tale.

"Five siblings and all of them capable of turning themselves into dragons. The third brother did honors to the goblin king, brave and strong to wield the' Saumohr's Teeth'." Flilius's eyes were shining with childish mirth. "This third one crossed the ocean, for his eyes were hungry for adventure, the other two elders stayed behind, guarding what they called home. The sisters were married off to far of lands."

The Charms Professor's voice rose a little and the younger colleague could imagine the characters coming alive right in front of her eyes, "It is believed that he had gained the trust of giant beasts and was quite popular among them. He was last seen or heard to have lived on the 'Isles that ocean hides'. Many have traveled to find him, but none returned. Among their familiars, few survived and what all can be known from them is that Dearc Mordor devoured them. The great dragon or dragon king- GUL- VILT as he was called, has treasures that were lost in The Great Fire. And among them, was the most precious, was his soul."

The conductor of the Hogwarts Choir broke into a song, next.

"There is a saying among the magical creatures who have lived since the ancient times of Gul Vilt. It goes like this-

_One will be born,_

_The best among the ravens,_

_with a heart and_

_a soul purest of kind_

_and his love for his evenstar_

_will eclipse the sun_

_and the moon._

_He will honour the king with a gift_

_that the king will not refuse._

"The goblins believe that the **Vaktare rikedom Gul Vit** are still among us, guarding Gul Vilt's treasure, honour, and will."

_"Their tasks led down_

_and forged in drogon fire._

_Till the time Gul Vilt's soul_

_is resurrected,_

_they must band and_

_they must do so_

_for the sake of magic alone."_

When the old charms professor and head of the house of the Ravenclaws, had finally taken his leave for the night, Minerva McGonagall had sat still on her wing chair, wondering what had got into the charms teacher who had left abruptly without throwing much light on his weird tale.

_When it had come to close, she could not help herself but ask, "But why, tell me?"_

_Filius had hopped down his tall perch and winked at her saying, "As much as Dumbledore now wears canary yellow robes and a tall wizard's hat, we must not forget under all that glittering and sparkling lights and stars, the man still remains. The one we know as a three-suited formidable dueler and a master strategist. Surely, as a realist like him will not listen to fairytales of goblins. Especially when the goblins don't wish him to know of it."_

_"But why tell ME, I can also tell the whole story to Albus, now that I have heard of it."_

_"No, you won't do that, daughter of a Ross. You won't betray the blood oath of your bloodline."_

* * *

Vaktare rikedom Gul Vit- in Swedish and old Gaelic roughly means Keeper of the treasure of Golden White. If you think I am not quite accurate, do let it pass as work of fiction.


	22. Chapter 21

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 21**

_Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry_

January 1960

The young Transfiguration Professor of Hogwarts gaped at the empty seat across her desk and sat still. Old memories preserved in the recesses of her mind started opening their doors and windows and began filling her mindscape. She recalled her mother Isobel Ross after all these years. Thinking of her, she remembered her childhood and how her mother would tell her similar fantastic tales.

Filius Flitwick knew more about her than he let on. Indeed he was a Ravenclaw. There was a great debate regarding his acceptance as a Charms Apprentice. The Half Goblin had spent years working under many previous professors. Only after the Board of Governors could no longer ignore his knowledge and his tendencies to perform extraordinary magic did they call for a meeting. Dumbledore, earlier on, shared with her that the Hogwarts staff was too wary about sending the star pupil away. The ministry and the board thought they couldn't quite hand over Filius back to the Goblins either. They didn't want a repeat of the Goblin rebellions.

It so seemed Flitwick had thought all these possibilities. The diminutive man had written a long letter to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the Minister of Magic, the Elders of the British Goblin Colony as well as the Head of the Board of Governors. In all of them, he clearly stated, "My allegiance is to Magic and Magic alone. I have not chosen Hogwarts as my home, it's the castle itself which has welcomed me as its resident. As long as I will live, I will dedicate my knowledge and my magic, my blood, body, mind, and Soul to Magic and this castle alone."

"Since Hogwarts is revered by several magical communities, they could argue with the subtle demands of the half-goblin. Filius stepped into too many posts at once and we accepted it without a grudge. If you mingle with him, you will find him as content and levelled headed person. He is not a professor to differentiate between students. he truly does not like to pick favorites. Even the Slytherins honour him because he does not judge them for who they are. Instead, he focuses on their talent. I have heard students telling each other, that the goblin 'Charms Master' works hard on his wards, and harder on all who have the acumen for Charms but are slightly slower to catch up with the rest. Would you believe it, he was the first one to tell me, 'Albus, beware of the Riddle boy. He is more than what he lets on," her mentor and colleague had once revealed.

Goblins it is believed could outlive wizards. Dumbledore stated Flitwick had attended Hogwarts after he himself had passed out and had gone overseas to learn more about Magic from other Magical schools. It was argued that he simply got the best of both the magical races, Goblin and Pureblood wizard. Minerva tried imagining what would it be like to have two brilliant students attending Hogwarts at the same time.

_'Filius Flitwick was nothing like Albus Dumbledore,_' she finally accepted, _'both of them could handle the post of Headmaster or any other position of importance at the ministry for that matter. Yet, Filius chose to remain in Hogwarts. And it now seems he will continue to do that, like forever, just the way he had promised everyone.'_

Her eyes had traveled lazily up and down her rather a commendable collection of tomes and knickknacks. Suddenly the witch sat up straight, her wariness forgotten at once. Her eyes were fixed on the same glass ball above the shelf of periodicals, which had drawn the charms professor's attention and had led him to share the fantastic tales of dragons and master animagus.

She kept staring at the reflecting surface of the glass ball with a breathing burgundy dragon encased within. Her thoughts traveled back to the times when she was a little girl and that glass ball had fascinated her. It was one of her mother's prized possessions, one little Minerva was not allowed to touch.

* * *

The Castle was quiet like nothing had happened in the last couple of hours. The resident Charms Professor's mystic old voice still hung heavily, an odd fantastic tale breathing down her neck. Sensing the dreariness, the winter's frosty winds had picked up their ominous chorus, crashing against the castle walls now and then. Even the candles were wary as they dared to keep burning through the late hours of the night.

Minerva McGonagall did not notice the floo connection coming alive and the headmaster's face now visible among the green flames.

Albus Dumbledore had been quite worried and desiring to unburden his thoughts often sort a much clear-minded and intuitive Minerva. They were colleagues first, friends next, and a headmaster and a deputy headmistress at last. The wizard was about to call his younger friend when he saw how wrapped in attention and how lost the latter looked. Following her line of sight, Dumbledore could see the bookcase, but from his crouched-up position, nothing else was quite visible_. I will have to look closer, once she invites me in_.

"Minerva, deputy headmistress?"

Startled, Minerva wheeled around, her eyes wide at the sight of a rather amused grandfatherly Dumbledore.

"Now, that I have your full attention, may I come in?" the older man chuckled, the skin around his mirthful eyes wrinkling.

"Oh! By all means, Albus. Has something happened again? I don't quite hear the hum anymore though…"

"Nothing my dear. Nothing to bother about. Just that this old man was feeling rather ill at ease. And was willing to seek out his intuitive deputy headmistress. I mean, may I, if you so permit, officially pick at your 'rational insights'?"

"Why Albus, you can, if you wish, my 'rational insights" are always at your service…but I would rather suggest you better sleep over this whole affair…a good night's sleep is the best medicine to get clarity of thought and mind. Not a fair playful debate."

Minerva still noticed how the regal and powerful wizard was now standing defeated all of a sudden, in her Gryffindor chambers. She, in the spirit of good nature, motioned him to take one of the comfortable wingback chairs, by the fireplace and calling for a yet another tea service, settled herself across, its twin counterpart.

Once the tea service arrived, the two colleagues settled with their respective cups nestled in their hands, Dumbledore spoke up, "I didn't wish to draw unnecessary attention to certain facts, during that colossal meeting we had after dinner."

Tilting her head as a signal for the other to continue, Minerva sat up, eyes trained at her visitor.

"Not for once, but several occasions, I kept thinking about one student of ours. The one, I should have put a tighter rein on…"

"Are you referring to Riddle?"

"The very same…Tom Riddle. No one knows what he is up to. But there are whispers. Whispers in dark alleys, dingy pubs, and murky dealing houses, a Power is on the rise, they are saying, evil and sinister, that is building up its strength and in years to come will eclipse all that is good and fair. It will return the glory of magical supreme to those of the purebloods, and perhaps, perhaps succeed in removing traces of the impure and muddy…"

Pausing to place his empty cup on the center round table, Dumbledore steepled his fingers and rested his chin over them.

"I don't like the sound of all these rumors. We have had quite many quiet years. We have had flourishing students. We have been doing a commendable job at training the best magical folks of Britain. Yet why peace always seems to be threatened at each turn of an era is beyond me."

As if unable to contain his agitation, the headmaster got up, and started pacing to and fro the room, with the entrance to his one end and the enormous bookshelf at the other.

"I wish I was certain of his whereabouts, Minerva. The last concrete details we have of his location happens to be somewhere in the Alps. "

This had a startling effect on the other attentive listener of the room.

"Is he trying to follow the footsteps of Grindelwald?"

Turning sharply at the Transfiguration professor, Dumbledore stared hard and cold, his voice stern and foreboding, "That wizard is death, and anything and everything of his, is destroyed and burned to ashes," gripping his wand in one hand, he continued, "he shall never rise again, we saw to it, I vouch for myself, Minerva, he shall never rise."

"Then! Why are you so shaken up Albus? Surely it is not just Tom, it can't be just him, is there something more, something else that you wish to share, or perhaps want me to find out?"

While the younger witch tried to implore at her older colleague, the wizard slowly walked up to the bookcase and was scoring the shelves lazily, pensive and thoughtful. A glint right above where the shelf of periodicals ended_. 'There! once again, it glistened with the flicker of the candlelight. Perhaps that was what got Minnie all wrapped up,' _he eagerly thought to himself.

Walking up to the edge of the bookcase, trailing his fingers over the dusty journals, giving nothing out to the witch coaxing him to calm down and reconsider the facts with a serene mind, Albus Dumbledore stood shocked and rigid all of a sudden. He had spotted the same glass ball, which Filius Flitwick had prior to him.

As if speaking to himself, he muttered, though, the younger professor could hear him in the quiet room, "And there are things that remain blank and hazy in my mind, things that make my heart ache but my mind refuses to acknowledge- I wish against my wishes that I could de-age, go back to my younger self. I think there lie several answers to present questions of my life, but Time and Tide waits for none, do they…"

Recognizing the subtle shift in the conversation, Minerva watched the headmaster more closely than she had before.

"Albus?"

The man turned sideways, his face away from her shelf, eyes downcast and emotions guarded. She watched him blinking his eyes once and then twice, shaking his head a couple of times and then decisively straightening his back. Turning back fully, now facing her, he replied jovially, "I knew myself to be a collector of oddities, since when did I start influencing you?"

At the woman's upturned eyebrow, the old wizard pointed his index finger at glass ball, larger than a fist, with a Ridgeback Norwegian dragon, breathing fire at equal intervals, its blue azure eyes twinkling each time the candlelight happen to catch its way. Minerva laughed and somberly said, "It's my mother's last gift to me…." then trailed off.

"Oh!" Albus did not pry.

"I better take my leave. I hope the weekends will give us enough time to settle back and help the students to calm down enough. Minerva, I wish you do sleep it over as well. I noticed you were not feeling quite well during the meeting?"

"Think nothing of it. It was just a headache, nothing that Horace's Invigoration Draught potion cannot banish away!"

"Well then, Good night dear."

"Good night Albus, and don't pace and drill a hole on the carpet. Give yourself a break and actually sleep, Headmaster."

"As you say, Deputy Headmistress."

Patting her hand affectionately, Dumbledore left by the floo connection moments later.


	23. Chapter 22

MournfulSeverity- The fic gets all its inspiration for you. There are reasons why some chapters this fic is rated M, (non con) and you might find this chapter as one of those many reasons. Now onto the story.

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

_Cokeworth, England_

_January 1960_

When the young mother, her babe bundled into her bosom, had all but rushed through the cobbled streets of Cokeworth, the general frequenters around her cursed and spat at the two Many who were not knocked off their feet or had the contents of their bags and baskets, carts, and merchandise knocked off and scattered over the thoroughfare, stared at them curiously and shrugged off unimpressed. Very few of the townsfolk had seen Eileen Prince Nee Snape, after her marriage to a drunk brawler Tobias Snape.

By the time Eileen had reached the front gates of her broken-down house at Spinner's End, she was panting and little Snape was crying once again, probably because he was hungry. She made her way into the modest cottage. Without stopping at the kitchen or at the lone couch in the living room, she dashed up the stairs, taking two steps at once, and tumbled inside the bedroom.

Her husband only came in to grab fresh clothes and would spend the rest of his time, on the couch downstairs. Mindful, that Tobias detested baby items, she gingerly placed the wailing baby on the bed, saying soothing words in between wiping her fresh tears and unclasping her robe. Running out of his patience, the baby continued to scream and wail turning an unhealthy shade of red and blue.

"Oh! Merlin, his wails could wake even the dead," Eileen muttered under her breath. Throwing her robe and cloak on the bed, she picked up her son and walked out of the bedroom, hurried into the sparsely decorated nursery.

Sitting on a rickety armchair, that came from Mrs. Sommers's attic, she started removing the blankets which were wrapped snugly around the baby, now thoroughly soiled and sooty claw prints quite visible on the outsides. Shuddering at the memories of ravens, still fresh in her mind, she was shocked to find a miniature trunk that slid into her lap, once dislodged from the confines of the blanket. Carefully, placing it on a worn-out table by the window, she picked the baby up and fed it. Her eyes looked at nothing particular. The uncanny quietness of the house and the baby's rapid suckling filled the damp air. Her nerves finally began to settle back.

Once fed and pleasantly snuggled in his mother's lap, the newborn son soon dozed off. Making sure not to wake him up, Eileen gently dressed him in fresh baby linen and tucked him in his cot. Staring at his sleeping son, the mother realized once again, how foolish she had been. She felt around her pockets and brought out her wand, the round box, and the thick envelope. Hesitant and wary for a moment, she dropped the other two items on the table and tapped her wand on top of the miniature trunk_. "Finite Incantatem"._ Gradually the trunk grew in size, and Eileen was too happy and far emotional to see her old Hogwarts trunk sitting right in front of her. She was also glad that she could still perform the basic spells.

Cautiously she opened it with tears rolling down her cheeks. The inside was lined with books and at the very center lay a rather expensive leather-bound case that only potion masters would carry about. In it were lined up the most exquisite and finely made knives and sickles of all metals ever required in a potion's lab. Many of these knives and sickles were handed down heirlooms of the Prince family- and the very thought of buying them at any apothecary in Britain was enough to drain one's Gringotts's vault.

Eileen closed the trunk, minimized it, her spell jittery, but was good enough to hold onto for the time being. She slowly walked back to the landing, lowering the attic ladder, climbed up, and shoved in the trunk to some dusty corner. She made up her mind to come up and see for herself, what were those books' Aunt Aida had given her.

Quietly closing the door to the nursery, the exhausted mother made her way into her small bedroom. Absentminded, she removed her dress, unpinned her hair, when she realized she had left behind the round box and the thick envelope. Throwing away her wet and dirty clothes in the laundry hamper, she walked back into the nursery quietly and picking up the forgotten items, reentered her bedroom. Placing the box, a rather unimpressive looking item beside her on the bed, she opened the letter.

A loud thud downstairs and an array of curses from her drunk husband, led the young mother in a frenzy. She just had enough time to shove the round box under the bed and the letter below the pillows, when the door to the bedroom flew open and a very inhibited and extremely angry Tobias Snape stood heaving, red in the face, and murder in his eyes.

_Tobias had just taken a small break from the production line for a leak and had just taken a couple of quick puffs. Standing behind the warehouse, a spot frequented by many smokers, he wondered how life had been mocking at him. A baby wailing in his ears and a wife unworthy. She could barely cook and clean. The food tasted like sandpaper. He had chosen to do errands for the Jones who ran the canteen by the factory to pay for his lunch - loaf, and soup. Hell! He missed Maggie._

"_So, the new daddy of the town, got his time to steal some puffs?" – Maggie, all dressed up, in chiffon primrose dress and a dainty hat, a cigarette perched upon an expensive cigarette holder dangling at the corner of her cherry red lips, stalked up in cherry red pumps and stood by a baffled Tobias._

_Looking up and down at the newcomer, Tobias nodded and said," Time has done you good Mags. Look at you, it seems like you got a lottery, you do look good."_

"_Now! Before you go at tail wagging over me! Not all of us make blunders in life, do we? And keep in mind yourself, you are now talking to the new Mrs. Reynold Cokeworth. Oh! Yah! While you were busy changing diapers, I got married. You see, you were just a post where I could practice my skills. My Rony gave me this bright flashy stone- it is a solitaire diamond- not that you might have heard of something like that- would you? And woo! We got married in town last week! Now, where are my manners, Happy married life and fatherhood, hope that shoebox called home that you have, do well to your sorry kid, AH! I boy I heard!" Flashing him a cruel smile, Mrs Maggie Cokeworth, walked away swaying her hip and humming a song in her shrill voice," Music to my ears!"_

_Hours later, after downing a bottle of the whiskey, being hackled and roughed about by other brawlers outside Harris's pub, Tobias was angry and charged up like a bull before whom Providence was flashing a red flag. He didn't have the sense to blame his faith or his fate. He had the sole intention to make Eileen pay for all the misfortunes in his life. Thus, barreling through the evening streets, knocking off his front door, stomping up his rickety stairs, when he burst open the bedroom door, all his eyes could see were Eileen's rich forest green robes, lying over the faded grey bed sheets. That heavy and expensive cloth was proof that she was a witch. It was proof that she had perhaps gone back to rub shoulders with her rich snobbish family who refused to hand down a penny._

In two steps, Tobias crossed the room. Roughly grabbing his shivering and white as sheet wife, he snarled, "Where were you?"

Shaking and frightened, Eileen, managed to answer between dry gulps, "I went home, Father was angry, he kicked us out…"

Tobias was not thinking anymore. He had not slept with a woman, not even his wife after his marriage. Maggie had not only opened past wounds, but she had also literally dug her heels into his rib cage and had left bleeding punctures behind.

In a cold dreadful voice, the man of the house whispered menacingly, "Strip or I will rip your whelp's head off."

"Toby, don't, no you won't…" Backing off till she clumsily fell over the bed, Eileen made one last attempt to escape and go grab her son from the nursery. But Tobias had his hands over her dress and had ripped them off. Rolling her on her stomach, he began beating her, shoving her head in the pillows, muffling her cries. As if that was not enough, he wrenched her hands awkwardly behind her back, kneeing her legs apart, proceeded to carry on a barbaric act, primal and violent, which was perhaps going to reoccur for years to come- the act of domestic rape.

The young mother had tried. Truly she had for the last time, desperately wished for her magic to answer her call. She wished for her wand to come to her, when she had managed to speak for a moment, "Accio". But nothing had stirred at her will. Magic had for the first time completely deserted her, left her to deal with her tormentor.

As Eileen's sobs filled the damp and mute air, Severus, now awake by all the noises coming through the thin wall dividing the nursery and the bedroom, started wailing once again. The father, unperturbed by his act, kept shoving himself over his sinful wife, shouting in his hoarse voice, "Music to My Ears".

* * *

A/N: Your constructive opinions do matter, dear readers. This chapter was angst. But when was Prof. Snape's life not full of one exactly. I was having a chat with a fellow "Snily" and I told her all I wanted to gain from the above chapter was a realization- "Tobias is not seeking pleasure, Eileen is not able to do magic at the gravest of her moments till now, and Severus has experienced a lot even without knowing or understanding a bit of all that- and he is not even a month old."

I was hunting for a jazz song to go by the plot, and this one struck a chord. I know that this band came up years later than my current plot's timeline. Still, it is fan fiction and we all are playing with borrowed characters. "music to my ears"- watch?v=5CpPN659GJc


	24. Chapter 23

_**Disclaimer**_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 23**

Verus Umphrey wasn't quite sure whether Cazut could see those figures draped in tattered black cloaks with raven faces circling above the mother and the child. He was more petrified by the scene. A mother and a baby surrounded by these blood-chilling hovering and flying figurines trapped in a cemetery. It was not just an ordinary one either. The tombstones were led mirroring the lines of an ever ending spiral.

The dream consisted of two fragments. The first one he was sure was the one Cazut had pulled forth from the depths of his own mind. The next one had just latched itself to the withering tail of the first one. Both Matre Solveig and he had fallen back from their chairs trying to fend off those terrifying creatures. They looked so real over the brink of the whirlpool that they thought they would simply jump out of it and attack them here in the Kelp. Cazut had fainted almost instantly and the round basin had shattered into pieces all by its own.

Healer Umprey stood shivering at one spot as he watched Matre Sol trying to rejuvenate the unconscious potioneer. She was speaking to him but Umprey was too shocked to even hear her from this close. Not until Hidos, Cazut's faithful raven had pecked his head to snap him out of his trance.

Still lying prone on the flagged stone, Cazut coughed and slurred. Milis was already present. Turning at the stunned Healer Solveig barked," Get a grip, he is running a fever, get him to his quarters along with Milis and see to it no one approaches him." Shaking Verus out of his stupor, Solveig added," I am counting on you, Verus, don't disappoint me."

The healer cautiously knelt next to the delirious man and panicked," But Matre he sees the dead. The dead can hear him and do his bidding. Matre, he is a necromancer. A very powerful dark wizard."

"Are you doubting him now of all the times, Verus? Are you doubting Naireen and the choice of the Elder's magic that has protected us for ages?" Solveig countered.

"I don't doubt any of it. But we need to make sure the Dark Forces never get a wind of him, if you want him as our ally," placing his shaking fingers at the pulse point of the man Verus urged in hurried whispers.

Cel Cazut couldn't hear much of what was said. He knew his body was feeling like it had turned into lead. Everything in his mind was freezing. He was also aware somehow the baby was safe. Unmindful of where he was, he kept on chanting," Safe, I will keep you safe. Little one, you will survive, you simply must."

"Hurry up, take him back right now," Solveig half shouted. Millis grabbed the ailing man and the healer and apparated out of the Kelp Mistress's office.

Without wasting any time, Solvieg hurried down to the catacombs. Several of the Apprentice Handlers greeted her on the way. Rolf Spearfield was readying Aidan, his Hebridean Black dragon, when he saw her hurrying towards the main entrance to the catacombs. He called for his master, Dushtan Folkyre instantly, "Sir, Matre Solveig is coming this way. She surely doesn't look quite pleased."

The Head guard barreled out of his shed, where he was busy fixing the straps of his hoister. Together the men half sprinted to welcome the Kelp Mistress. Before they could even utter a word, Solveig ordered in a no nonsense tone," No one trains today, Folkyre, at least not with the dragons. Seal the catacombs and redouble the guards. You can continue training the apprentice. But no one is to ride dragons until further notice. If they ask any question, you will ask them to wait for the official decree. Give me the keys to the catacombs and call all your guards out of the caves. No one should venture inside, while I stay in."

Leaving the worried group of Kelp guards, handlers, the assistant and the Head guard at the mouth of the main cave entrance, Solveig, unlocked the iron and golden gate and stepped in. The structure of the cavity was much like an egg. The entrance was at one tip and at the round base was the nest of the oldest dragon, Naireen , the Dragon Matriarch.

On an ordinary day, Solveig would greet all of them one by one. But today, she simply dashed down the stone stairs. The dragons watched her walk past them and retreated inside their nests. The whelps followed their guardians and hid under their wings.

Finally reaching the end of the spiralling stairs, Solveig grabbed the stone wall and panted. Right across her, the azure blue dragon sat on her hind legs. Naireen's nest took up the entire base of the catacomb. The stairway spiralled closed to the wall of the egg shaped cavern. It was too deep for a human to see its bottom. While the kelp handlers and apprentices used the stairway, the dragons usually chose to exit the cave through the tunnel and shaft connected to the main entrance. They would fly back or trudge back to their shelters through the many smaller cave mouths connected with tunnels which finally led them to their respective nests.

Legend has it that the whole structure was made by Gul Vilt and the first dragons that had flown in with him. Dragons had breathed fire in order to create those small tunnels connecting the whole place. As for the unique shape of the entire structure, Naireen to this day mentioned," An egg helps life to thrive. So we live inside an egg."

Marching up to her dragon familiar, the irate Kelp Mistress lost her composure at last. Instead of utilizing their mental connection she resorted to yelling, " YOU have not been forthcoming NAIREEN. I could have killed an innocent man today."

The Dragon huffed and murmured through the mental connection,' You saved him in many ways, instead.'

Scowling at the beast, the witch took to pacing across the floor. She complained,"Verus is somehow managing to keep himself together. He thinks Cazut carries a cursed soul, that he can speak to the dead or the dead speaks to him, sought him alone...he is a necromancer. Tell me Naireen did you know about this, all those years ago?"

'I did,' came the solemn reply.

"What else are you hiding from us? Tell me is he the chosen one? Do you know who the child is? Tell me why the Kelp hums on its own, why the Gallowers are failing to perform magic? Tell, me for once are we all at the brink of extinction, Naireen! I remember pledging to you and I can recall you too in return had pledged to be my guide!"

When she saw the dragon close her eyes and bowed her head, she decided to confront her, "Naireen you cannot help us by not being forthcoming." Solveig watched the beast turn away her head and watch the scorched marks dotting the jagged ceiling and the walls.

Sighing deeply, the witch took a couple of steps forward and placed her palm against the dragon's ridged cheek. This time in a soft voice she pleaded,"We cannot fulfill the demands of the prophecy by being secluded in the Kelp or the Gallows. We need to reconnect with the outer world. We need to look for those lost kins who have sworn their blood and magic to the Gul Vilt's spirit. I shudder to think of what little I saw in Cazut's Dreams. Verus too seemed to see it for the first time. He never mentioned those figurines. All he said, he saw the ancient magic around us extend itself to welcome the young and desolate man. He mentioned the magical aura engulfing Cazut and claimed him as one of us. He also said, he saw him saving people and walking through fire unharmed. From that, the Healer concluded that perhaps, Cazut was related to the Kelpers as well."

Naireen turned her head slightly and brushed her cheek against the much smaller palm of her Witch Rider. "Sol- ari, Time dispersed many of our own. You are right. I too miss my kin. The Ones I never got to know in person. I hear them call to me from over the ocean. But my vows to this place have tied my hands."

"Naireen, the Kolbis of the hjertet av isrosa are still in touch with us. Cazut himself has met with the Corvus Witchmen," the witch reasoned.

Purring and chuckling, the Dragon Matriarch apologized," Yes, old blood can help, but we need to find those new saplings. Sol ari forgive me, I sought silence over the debate. It has been ages since I felt old magic. I might have prepared many of your ancestors for this day, but down the line, its meaning got slightly rusted for me. So when it all started again, I couldn't quite decide what to say or do. The Kelp and the Gallows depend on you, and you depend on me. I need to be certain of things to begin with."

"I can understand Naireen. I am truly not holding it against you," leaning her head against the snort of her dragon familiar Solveig murmured affectionately.

'Sol- ari, summon the Vaktare Rikedom Vilt Guld. I hear someone say these words after so many years. You were right we can't find a solution while hiding. I see that the outside world wants to reach out to us. I concede it is time that we reciprocate the gesture. I don't know who the child is, but I know this much he is a raven much like our potioneer, his blood kin. I can assure you, Master Rohirrim Cel Cazut is worthy enough to be a part of **Vaktare**_**, Rikedom Vilt Guld. **_And we must all join to help him in unearthing the past.' the dragon purred into her ears.

"No one will believe me. The Kelp residents, my counsel will question me and so will the Gallowers. I don't know what to say, Naireen. How will I convince them that we can really trust Cazut?'

'This time you will stand aside. I will talk to them!' Naireen's firm voice echoed in her mind.

"Naireen! What are you talking about? No, I cannot allow you to take your human form. You are weak. You haven't taken your human form in millennia. " in utter shock, Solveig blurted out.

"It might be, ages, since I took my human form, Sol-ari, but don't you dare question my powers and the extent of my strength," the dragon harrumphed.

"I am just concerned. Your magic just does not control the Dragons residing in the Kelp. It also connects the old wards and the protective shields placed by the Elders and the first _**Vaktare, Rikedom Vilt Guld **_with that of ours. It also keeps our enemies away,' the Witch Rider countered.

Naireen thought back, 'Dearc Mordor is aware of the vibration, she feels it Sol-ari. But we need to Keep the potioneer close and protected at once. We need the Gallowers to continue to trust us. They need to finally accept in the true sense that Cazut is one of them. I want to meet all of them together here in my nest. Let the house-elves take care of Master Cazut. Healer Verus Umphrey needs to be present as well. I think apart from you, Cazut will consider him as a friend and a confidant from now on.'

When the Kelp Mistress was about to leave, the familiar called at her," On second thoughts, Sol-ari, you can ask the guards to let Healer Umphrey in, whenever he pleases to see me. I must put the man's mind to rest at once."


	25. Chapter 24

_Disclaimer_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 24**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry  
Scotland**_

30 January 1960

Once the Headmaster had truly left, Minerva had rushed to the bookcase. Frantically looking up, the much-used shelves, she let out a cry of pure joy, when she finally succeeded in getting hold of the glass ball. Not everything responded to a wave of a wand and simple "Accio". Remembering her mother's last words- she uttered, holding her breath-

_**Vaktare, Rikedom Vilt Guld,**_

_**ryttare av Naireen, reagra reagra!**_

For a couple of seconds, nothing happened. The wind outside her bay window howled and the candles kept on their illuminating vigilance. Then the dragon trapped inside groaned, and took in a deep breath. Slowly, straightening its back, it turned its eyes at Minerva. It watched her closely. Seconds, ticked by, perhaps even minutes passed, but the witch could hardly bat her eyelids, so captivated was she by the soul-searching stare of a magically handmade artifact. After a long time, it started humming and to her surprise, Minerva heard an odd commanding voice in her head. "Solveig Marit Kolebuck- Dragon's Kelp, Appalachian Mountains- note it down".

Carrying the ball to her desk, the transfiguration professor carefully deposited it beside her inkpots and hastily pulling out a blank piece of parchment noted down the instructions.

Muttering to herself, placing the tip of her quill over her lower lip, she spoke aloud," Solveig…Solveig…Sol, Sol, Sol…why does that sound familiar…?"

As if struck by a forgotten piece of fact, she stood up, and rushed to her bedroom, mumbling, "why of course, mother used to tell me about one. How can I be so utterly foolish?"

Once inside the room, she went straight to the lone bedside table. Apart from a bedside three-piece candle stand, some journals, a decorative photo stand sat over the mahogany and golden glazed tabletop. Sitting on her four-post bed, with matching Gryffindor colored drapes, she carefully picked up the photo frame. The picture comprised of a middle-aged couple, her parents standing in front of a modest cottage. She would, when at times, feel melancholic, trace her fingers over this picture to find much-needed solace.

Today, she did none of that. Instead of tracing her fingers over the faces of her parents, she swiftly turned the frame and pried open the back. Somethings still needed to be done the muggle way. Behind the dull worn out stiff board, there lay a worn-out old piece of parchment, folded precisely in four-folds.

Cautiously putting aside, the frame, she picked up the letter and scooting closer to the candle lights lit on the bedside table, and opened it.

It carried her mother's floral scent, faded but still there. The parchment was blank at first sight. Then slowly, letters began to form in flowing, floral cursive script. It read,

"_Albus might not have all answers, Minnie, when that is so Sol-Narna is the one to turn. But keep it quiet. The honor of the family must be restored, kept, and sealed."_

Her mother's handwriting grew darker under the flicker of the candles and then faded away.

* * *

**Dragon's Kelp, Appalachian Mountains**

Naireen pitied the man who sat at the last stair, holding his head in his hands and shaking ever so slightly. It was a good thing that she allowed him to speak first.

Without looking up Verus Umphrey whispered," I didn't know who else to talk to. Matre has shut herself in her office. I couldn't continue staring and Cazut's unconscious body any longer. On one hand, I pity him and on the other, I am afraid of him. Funny, he is so full of self-doubt. I want to help him, I wish to help him. I know he keeps looking for a friend even now. But I am worried, I got a daughter to think of."

'Cazut cannot harm those he cares for. It is not in him to turn against those he cares for the most. Without your knowing, he protects both Tulip and Celina. Remember those books he presents Miss Umphrey. The man is unknowingly training your daughter to become a proficient healer already.'

The man jerked his head up while the dragon chuckled in front of him. He tried to think his words," I can hear you. How can I hear you? I have never been able to hear you before."

'Consider that a token of appreciation from our potioneer. Now, tell me would you doubt him?' Naireen asked.

Still baffled, Verus mumbled,' How is this possible?'

'Magic manifests in strange ways. To give your mind some peace, Cazut can hear me as well. Though he continues to believe he is speaking to his dead mother. She had little magic in her. He got all his magic from his father actually.' Naireen uttered softly.

'Can he see his dead mother?' Verus quicked asked, without thinking much about it.

'Do you know how his parents died, Healer Umphrey?' instead of answering his question, Naireen asked him.

'I could never manage to... He always looked so withdrawn at the mention of love and family…' he trailed off.

'Poisoned by a shape-shifting witch from whom they were trying to save their only son. As his grandfather managed to flee with him bundled in his arms, the couple fought hard to stop her from following him. She had an accomplice, a rather unsure young man who doused the already dying parents in fiendfrye. Even as a babe, Cazut had managed to channel his power to harm the woman and kill accomplice. You won't be surprised to know that the accomplice had links to the worst Dark Wizard of the recent world. At the same time, he is tied by blood with the most powerful wizard of the light in current times. The fleeing grandfather and the babe were rescued by a Bulgarian wizard. Later on, Cazut had saved his savior's life from the accomplices of the same Dark Wizard."

Verus cut in Naireen mid-sentence," Who are these wizards and witches? And how do you know all of this?"

"Cazut's mind is an open book to me, he is unaware of how deep his memories run. The dark wizard is none other than Gellert Grindelwald. I remember the shapeshifting witch referred to the accomplice as Credence. But I know he is related to Albus Dumbledore, he shares his blood and magic. The Bulgarian Wizard is Lord Emanuel Krum who later on admitted Cazut to the school he once himself attended. We don't have to worry about the dark wizard, Albus Dumbledore has already killed him."

"Naireen what about the witch? And how do you know so much about what transpires in the other parts of the world?" Awestruck, Verus whispered.

'I dont know what became of the witch. I know Sol -ari tried to ask after her years ago. I rely on Old Magic. In the coming days, you too will need to. It will show you the way, to find what is lost in the depths of time. Be the friend Cazut hunts for Verus Umphrey. We are not alone. We never were. If we look close enough, we will one day see every magical creature rallying to our king, fighting against Evil and Vile. Our king is too keen to wake up, the end to the beginning is nearer than you think.'

Craning her neck the Dragon Matriarch breathed hard, sending a ball of roaring fire up the long dark shaft, lighting the catacombs. Umphrey watched its ascend, mesmerized and overwhelmed by all that Matre Solveig's familiar had shared, till it clashed against the gates of iron and gold far above.

* * *

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry  
Scotland**_

"My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," the old man in peacock blue robes, wearing half-moon spectacles and a pointy hat, tapped his wand at his chin as he watched the vast Forbidden Forest from the turrets of the Astronomy towers. The forest was unnaturally alive tonight so was the castle for most parts of the day. His short meeting with Dinty was well- just a formal meeting. The matriarch elf seldom sorted him out. She was a person bound by work and discipline. Sometimes Albus would think the Hogwarts grand clock kept time at her bidding and not the other way.

His casual meeting with Minerva was unsettling. Tom Riddle was a growing cause for his wariness. The boy always had this unhealthy inclination towards dark magic and towards malicious intentions. Though Albus found it too difficult to ascertain his role in this present crisis since there was no news on him being back to Britain, he found things too foggy to let it rest. Abraxas was as greedy as a man can be if he desired he would sell off his own relatives, sacrifice his own blood to rise in power. On the other hand, Ignatius was never too fond of the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Albus Dumbledore was a man of many talents. It was imperative of him to outshine others.

But tonight at this hour, when he was certain that every other soul within this castle wall was fast asleep, he chose to stand here under the night sky and allow his emotions to run free. There were things he wished he could remember. His heart knew of things that had occurred in his long eventful life. But his mind had failed him time and again. He had pulled memory after memory and floated them in the mists of his pensive. But there were big holes in the long mesh of a lifetime of memories. And he knew those were not his doing.

What he felt after his eyes caught the ridgeback Norwegian dragon encased within a glass ball sitting idly on his transfiguration professor's personal bookshelf was close to endearment and the pang of loss. He had tried Filius's logic, "Work your feet to walk your brain." His legs were screaming now but the thick fog and those many holes in his memory remained. He tried revisiting his young life, instead, his mind took him years ahead. Years that he still had to live. Events that he understood little of, faces that he was yet to see, thus could not commit to memory. But the whole spiralling vortex of time travelling in mind, something the elitist scholars of the wizardry society termed as the rarest branch of foretelling magic that overlaps with divination, had ended right where he was standing now.

The ominous ring to that screeching halt of the mind made him feel the chilling presence of Death. But Albus Dumbledore had so much to do, so much to live for and so many young witches and wizards to inspire. Of course, he had his dedicated staff, people who would walk with him through fire and ice. Yet nothing was enough to define this miserable emptiness. Even from this far, he could hear the centaurs racing through the forest. He heaved a sigh only to realise, he had been crying over a loss of something or someone who could have meant the world to him.

* * *

'Vaktare, Rikedom Vilt Guld/ryttare av Naireen, reagra reagra!'- in Swedish means 'keeper, who treasure White Gold,Rider of Naireen,Respond! respond!'


	26. Chapter 25

_Disclaimer_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 25**

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry  
Scotland**_

30 January 1960

The old and ancient matriarch of the elf settlement of Hogwarts, Dinty, was ordering the crew to begin the process of cleaning up and move on to the preparation of the next meal. The several ovens were always kept burning, the kitchen only slept for a few hours at night. She could hear the pitter-patter footsteps of the hundreds of students from above and the sliding of the benches of the log tables. It goes without saying that right below the Great Hall the huge kitchen of Hogwarts was built.

"It's Hogsmeade weekend. The students would go down to the village supervised by a handful of teachers," she reminded the elves around her. And it meant apart from personal elves being summoned by the remaining professors and members of the staff for afternoon tea, nothing much needed to be done as far as the kitchen duties were concerned.

Then, of course, elves were never without work were they! The dorms were in a horrid state, there were piles of students' laundry to be washed and ironed. The weekly thorough cleaning services to be commenced. The elf matriarch had drawn several deals with the headmasters of Hogwarts whenever the necessity demanded of her. Like for example, the upkeep of the portraits and the decor, the general cleaning services, and the upkeep of the classrooms- everything was put on paper signed and agreed upon. The elves tolerated the ghosts and hated Peeves, the poltergeist.

It was Peeves who had appeared from the sink filled with unwashed utensils. It took little care as it upset the washed pile and scattered the dirty ones all about the floor, drenching the working elves with murky water, soap, and slim. Barreling right up to the Matriarch Elf, it had prostrated at her feet wailing like a frightened child. Dinty had little patience for the upstart. She was about to chastise, when the castle shook at its ground, roared, rumbled, grumbled, and huffed.

Peeves had wound itself around her wrinkled body in fright. Through chattering teeth, the poltergeist managed to utter," I have nothing to do with this, trust my Madam Dinty, it's awake the castle roars and speaks in whispers, it is awake. Awake. Wide awake." Dinty had heard the old tales and the myths. But the pestering poltergeist had no business in knowing about that. Old magic lost and forgotten was once again miraculously waking up. This was an event every elf desired to be a part of. The call of the Old brethren. Snapping her fingers, she had summoned a handful of elves, who were prepared with heavy rolling pins. In no time the poltergeist fled through the lower corridors situated close to the Hufflepuff dorms and staff quarters yelling on top of its lungs. The batting rolling pins were not meant for the students' eyes. As for the sneaky Peeves, the elves always made sure to get back to him for upsetting any student.

Indeed the day turned to be a dreary one. The students were tense, the staff of the school clueless and on top of that, the Ministry of Magic and the Board of Governors made the whole thing grow out of proportion. The kitchen and the elf quarters below that were buzzing with speculations. But one look from the iron-handed Dinty made any group disperse in seconds. She had called Tuny the elf serving the current Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore on the sides, and gave her stern orders, " Don't utter a word, keep your eyes and ears open and your head bowed. Not a word, if Dumbledore says you anything with that goofy smile and twinkling eyes. He has to call me. And he will."

Tuny had diligently returned and narrated what all had transpired in the Headmaster's office and several other elves had kept her abreast of all the kinds of ridiculous rumours that the wild imagination of the student body could give birth to. Dinty had arched her wrinkled brows when Pasty and Pons told her how Minerva McGonagall and Madam Sprouts chanced upon Peeves, but she kept quiet. When Sobs and Fostie told her of Filius Flitwick uncharacteristically going round and round the castle, stroking his bread and humming to himself, the old elf too had hummed in reply. She had only contributed three words, "Oh! I see," when the personal elf of the transfiguration Professor finally reported serving late-night refreshments to both the charms professor and the Gryffindor head in her quarters.

The whole day long the castle grumbled and huffed. The elves keeping the several greenhouses came back frightened out of their wits," The forbidden forest is awake, the creatures are restless, Hagrid's tamed ones are too knocking at the bars!" Raising her hand, Dinty had reassured, and allowed her voice to run through the crowd of gathered elves, "We serve magic old, we will serve Hogwarts and its occupants like we also have. We will serve magic old. It breathes again. Keep your vows to Hogwarts in mind always. And say or hint not a word about it to anyone." The crowd had backed away because the matriarch had an unsettling rueful smile on her wrinkled face. Fostie had whispered into Tuny's ears, "She smiles, not a good sign, the castle not just breathes, it talks now, not a good sign."

* * *

_**Ministry of Magic**_

Ignatius Tuft, the Minister of Magic started late into the night. His wife had floo called twice, his children had sent an owl before, reminding him of the cousin's birthday party, which Tuft was too happy to miss. It was Hogwart's business. It was something that even the high and mighty Albus Dumbledore as the rumour went, was unable to explain. He was least interested in finding out the validity of the letter that Abarax Malfoy had produced. If it could bring Dumbledore down even by a couple of notches, Ignatius was prepared.

He had made in-depth research before appointing Rayn Crickerly as his secretary. The man had every characteristic that defined a consummate Slytherin and above all even as a youngling in the cruel world of politics, he was shrewd as a fox. Being charismatic and having oratory skills, he was good at attracting the young and naive men with his vitriolic words. If Ignatius could not tame Hogwarts, he would rather allow Rayn to influence the young group of witches and wizards to parrot the ministry doctrines and forgo the free spirit presumed by the Hogwarts Alumni.

After his unsuccessful meeting at Hogwarts, after glaring at the pompous Malfoy, Ignautis has bellowed at every ministry official on the floor for one whole hour. He sent people running down to the archives, hunting for the oldest registered manuscripts, scrolls anything, that spoke at length about the History of Magical Britain. Every single one returned with scrap.

"Yes, all of these all of these are trash useless, they are just copies made from the History of Hogwarts, nothing else," he flung a bunch of parchments at the tabletop, where almost every edition of Hogwarts: A History was open, marked and alas, dog-eared. Ryan Crickerly winced by just nodding in agreement.

Keeping his tone subservient, he coaxed the fuming man, "Sir, new day, fresh eyes, why, why don't we leave it today and come back tomorrow and start afresh." The Minister gave him a hard look in return and finally heaved a sigh. "Yes, Crickerly, you may be right, you may be right. Please breathe heavily on those whelps you have posted in Hogwarts. Anything they see, hear or feel, I must know before it reaches that twinkled eyed man, Dumbledore, do you understand."

"Most definitely Sir, I will make certain of that."

"Very well, my wife will be cross enough, my kids will be sulking, but I have to run the ministry here! Marlin's show me the way," grabbing his coat before the secretary could help him with it, the heavy man had flung his office door open and marched out. Crickerly grimaced and followed. He had to tolerate the minister's many moods, because one day, that copious seat must belong to him. Chanting that like phrase under his breath the young secretary ran to pick up with the storming man ahead.

The elevator took the tried men up and side-along many rounds till the door slid back to show them an utterly empty Atrium, with only the patrolling night watchers at the station. Of course, the night shift attending Aurors were still in their departmental offices. The two men walked out one after the other, listening to their own footsteps echoing through the length and the breadth of the grand hallway. They had reached almost near the magnificent Ministry fountain when the entire building shook for the first time.

Eyes wide the men exchanged worried glances, even the guards at the station were alert looking around. Some of them were coming towards the minister and his secretary. In no time they formed a circle around, they wands pointed outwards. The building shook and hummed, groaned and huffed, rumbled and roared. As if its bricks were brushed against each other, its many pipelines and glass windows and tables and chairs, wardrobes, and brooms, every single item had found a mouth and voice to use for the first time. The cacophony lasted only for a single minute. It was not an earthquake and not a familiar kind of magic. When Ignatius was about to feel his heart climb up his throat, the sounds stopped. The minister knew then and there because his bones were still vibrating on their own, this was not the doing of Albus Dumbledore. This was not a ploy of the sneaky bastard, Abraxas Malfoy. This was something that the press will feast on and if he was not going to find a quick answer to all of this, his career was ruined.


	27. Chapter 26

_Disclaimer_: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.

* * *

**Chapter 26**

Dragon's Kelp, Appalachian Mountains

30th January, 1960

Milis and Rouhm, the present heads of the house elves of the Kelp were talking in hushed whispers in their quarters in the North Teeth. The personal elf of Kelp Matre had just popped in to alert the small contingent of her kind about the rare turn of events.

Rouhm had just apparated from the Kitchens. While the others watched, the two stood near a painting made of mosaic tiles. It depicted three elves tall and kings holding a horn which had not one but three snouts. Together they were presenting it to a huge dragon with white and golden scales. Behind him stood two other dragons. One was definitely Naireen while the other was hard to decipher. The area looked like the red tiles had bled on their own and had created a huge smudge.

Under the feet of the three elves the names, Rihim, Rohim and Rouhirim were etched in gold. Ancestors of both Milis and Rouhm had chosen to accompany the Great Dragon rider King when he had left the frozen shores of the north world on the other side of the great Ocean. Three cousins, one son to mark each elf bloodline had rode on dragons to honour the Elven and Dragon ties. While Milios the son of Rohim and Rouhl the son of Rouhirim had settled with the residents of the Dragon Kelp. Rohim's descendant Kreach had been gifted away to the Pryenso family once the Kelp and Gallows treaty was sealed. Needless to say, Milis was the last of the line of the Milios side of the family, while Rouhm drew the line below the Rouhirim family tree.

It was considered a bad omen to mention about Kreach in the small elven group of about twenty five members. Tales were told about how inadequate the Bad Witch, Gallow Mistress, Hydriana Pryenso found him that she gave him away to her brother's family. The Blake's kept him because their only son, Remulus Borge Blake, saw a kind hearted friend in Kreach. It was a disgrace to be dismissed by a household in which any elf was ceremoniously inducted. Within two decades of the Great fire and the Fall of the Gallows, the elves were too happy to see Kreach leaving with his master, the only serving young man Remulus Borge in search of Pryensos.

First the Evanstar Gul Vilt Sisters had sailed under the darkness of the night never telling anyone where they went. In grief, Meynard Pryenso the betrothed of the eldest daughter, Lijla Evenstar Gul Vilt had fled. It was not until twenty more years had passed, that the first Folkyre Boeie and Gus 'Spesis' Spearwield had come knocking at the gates of the Kelp. They said they had sworn allegiance to Gul Vilt sometime after the Elves and the Goblins had. None would have believed but for their claw and bear faced markings.

Apart from claiming their right to get inducted to the Vaktare, Rikedom Vilt Guld, they had given a reason for Daemon Pryenso to leave behind both his young wife Some Umphrey and their children in search of his lost brother. When Regulus found it unbearable to live in the Gallows he too had left with his ever faithful friend Kreach.

Running their fingers over the old letters that read Rouhirim and Milios, both Milis and Rouhm shared a poignant look. The other hurdled around them watched as they turned and Milis addressed, "The ghost whisperer's magic has responded at last. The old soul of Kreach's master's are rearing up in order to prepare for themselves for the fulfillment of the Prophecy."

Fihur, her son rubbed his hands and asked in a low voice," But Matera, the Kelp shakes and the gallows breath. Our masters can't hear the wails of the Dead, but we do every single day."

Bringing up her palm Milis quieted the dim that was breaking around her," Naireen knows and so does Sol Matre. The Gallows will be emptied and we will have more people to feed and take care of. It is our duty to serve those who wish to bring back the glory of Dragon King."

Rouhm spoke up next," The dragons will refuse to leave their nests. Though our masters will know not why, but we will know, we will tend it and keep it warm, we will sing it lullabies too. It must sleep until the fruit is born. When the time comes we shall rally to Our King."

In unson gathered elves thumped their feet and beat their hearts and chanted, " when the time comes we shall rally to Our King."

Aur, the youngest one pattered forward and asked hesitantly," so the Old Tales, the very ones the Kelp and Gallows children read and talk about are true? The cursed ones would be reborn and sacrifice themselves to please. Naireen will fly again and return to where she was born. The King will be born...will all these happen for real?" his eyes drew so large with rapt wonder, that Milis had to stifle her bubbling laughter. Patting the elf affectionately she dismissed the small crowd.

She found Rouhm staring at her with furrowed brows. He spoke out, rubbing his chin," You will have to straighten it out with Naireen. The elves don't know what they heard, but we know. You and me, we know it was the Adharc Horn."

Waving her hand in the air, Milis huffed," No one knows where it went. After the curse, Once Gul Vilt flew off every single of his possessions vanished. Forefathers of the Kelp elves searched high and low, braving the flames and the heat, but nothing. Not a sign of his horn, not a sign of his sword nor his axe, nothing but the armour remained. Till date it stays buried, we check on it every first of the month."

"But Smältrödeld hums, do you think it's because of the Ghost Whisperer?"

Milis grabbed at Rouhm arm and cried, "No. Brethren, no, the Ghost Whisperer might live a cursed life, but even among death he has the talent to shower empathy."

Rouhm pulled back and muttered in awe," Empathy. The power to feel soul magic, only the Old seers of Gwen Evanstar could harness that. Are you certain, Milis, perhaps you know not what you have seen, perhaps it is some sinister wrapped in a veil of innocent goodness?"

The Elf matriarch chastised her cousin," Don't you speak like your masters, you know better, that can never be true. Darkness cannot reside in Kelp, the founders of Vaktare, Rikedom Vilt Guld, bled and fused their vows with their magic to see to it. But?"

"But?"

"Naireen thinks she heard the Bad witch cry after eons together. She watches these shores, she thinks as well. She waits deep in the jaws of Sunken Isles. She lets nothing past over them. Witches and wizards and also their familiars travelling over the ocean, all are captured by her blood thirsty minions. Few that escape are but small foolish familiars," Milis shuddered," I know I hear, but I say little about it to my mistress."

"Milis I think the dragons will call a counsel among them. Naireen will ask the Vaktare, Rikedom Vilt Guld to renew their vows. Must we tell her, we are prepared as well?"

"Milis will go and speak with Naireen. While you are with the feverish Ghost Whisperer, put Norbit to keep an eye on the young ones," brushing her fingers over the name of Milios, the first Elf of the Dragon's Kelp and her forefather, the magical creature vanished.

Rouhm turned and studied the wall and sighed," Rouhm wonders what shall he do? He knows the ghost whisperer is not the one whose footsteps it must follow," rubbing his fingers over Rouhirim's name he muttered," he hears his kin but he cannot cross the ocean, until his master calls."

* * *

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry  
**__**Scotland**__**  
31st January 1960**_

The following morning, Irma Pince, the only Ravenclaw, all dressed up and ready for the day, trudged down the castle staircases and finally feeling some warmth up her legs, made way towards the snow-clad owlery. It was Saturday, almost the entire student body was tucked in their four-poster bed. It was just a few minutes after dawn and the third year was wide awake, excited, and quite prepared. Much of her confident glow perhaps came from the singular belief, "Mother knows answers to all my questions. I hope I have asked them clearly enough."

January mornings rarely saw the Sun up this early, therefore it was quite freezing. The tiny witch wrapped her scarf tighter and burrowed deeper into her school robes and cloaks. She had finally made up to the last landing and a climb of a couple of steps would help her reach the door to the owlery.

"Miss Pince?"

The little girl looked up and found her transfiguration professor standing by the half-open door to the owlery.

"Good morning Deputy Headmistress."

"Good morning to you too, Aren't you up quite early for the day?"

Trying her best not to look too guilty for comfort, Irma tried her luck instead. "Professor, I could hardly sleep last night. I am sorry I perused the library but found nothing substantial, I tried the books around the Ravenclaw common room, but without any luck…Thus I thought if I could ask mother…"

Even with house rivalries taking nasty turn of events, Irma knew at heart, Professor McGonagall never for once, had been biased and partial. She was always just and diligent at taking care of students irrespective of their backgrounds or of their houses. Moreover, she never discouraged her or ignored her bluntly. Even if the transfiguration teacher had little to say to her in class and during lessons. Her short, positive footnotes below her essays kept Irma content and focused on her course work. She was among the very few, who did give importance to grades, but saw into the fact whether the students were learning and broadening their intellectual pursuits. And for this singular fact, the Ravenclaw felt kindred to the Gryffindor head of the house.

Minerva knew Aida Pince. She was a Slytherin, but unlike many of her housemates, held rather a neutral belief. Her forte was in Charms and Defense against Dark Arts, but she had a rather keen aptitude for Divination. Rare yet most fascinating. But that was not the only reason, Minerva recalled this old student of Hogwarts. She secretly smiled down at the youngest daughter standing attentively, just a couple of steps below. Aida Pince was not just a book collector. She was an avid reader too_. _

_There is no harm in finding the truth, even if the answers come from a most unlikely source. Hoping that Madam Pince still remains neutral in her belief. Furthermore, I can always ask Flitwick to pay closer attention to his inquisitive Raven, _she mused. Irma, just like her mother had gathered the just transfiguration professor's rare appreciation, for both were hardworking and erudite students.

Then curtly nodding at Irma, she spoke aloud, "Please accompany me, though it is quite uncalled for for you to walk alone in the castle at this time of the day, but I will let it pass. I will see to it that you are back to your common room. Only come to the Great Hall, with your housemates. I did not hear of revised precautionary rules as of date. Therefore, the old one made yesterday are still applied."

"Yes Professor, and thank you, Madam, I did not mean to cause a disturbance, I am just…I really can't help it, without knowing what is happening around…"

"That is alright, girl, Now, go in and send off that heavy letter."

Flashing her professor, a rare and genuine smile, Irma climbed up, while Professor McGonagall had pushed open the heavy door. The two made their way to their respective owls.

As the odd pair watched their respective owls fly, their quiet sendoff was broken by the renewing of the soft humming coming through the castle walls once again. Making their way out of the owlery after exchanging grimaces at the droning sound both the teacher and her student were shocked and taken aback by all the various noises coming from the Forbidden Forest.

Among the dull symphony of the wild calls, it was Irma plaintive voice that renewed Minerva's respect for the girl, "The creatures and thestrals under Hagrid's watch, and even the magical creatures of Forbidden Forest seem to be noticing it. I feel they are rejoicing at something that we fail to notice. As if Nature is rather happy. And if she is happy, must we worry, Madam?"

Not far away, Botin, the pygmy owl, and Eilwen, the Eurasian eagle-owl were flying over the span of the lush green forest, hooting with the wild creatures below, then as if sharing some greeting, nodded at each other. Moments later, the smaller owl was off on her small trip to Wigmore. But the other was going to make a rather long tour across the ocean, to the far-off lands of Dragon's Kelp, for the first time in its life.

* * *

Vaktare, Rikedom Vilt Guld,

ryttare av Nyre, reagra reagra

(keeper, who treasure white gold,

rider of Nyre,

respond respond)

Swedish- I took liberty at borrowing from this language, feeling that the old civilizations would speak in similar dialects. I meant no disregard, rather it felt quite apt for my plot.


	28. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: I owe nothing apart from my AU and OC.

* * *

**Chapter 27**

**Gringotts Bank, Diagon Alley**  
Late night, 30th January 1960

The minecart brought the group of five Goblins to the Tunnel That Drops Dead. All goblin employees of the Gringotts Bank were aware, anyone who ventured beyond that point was never heard or seen again, But only the Goblin Order knew it was just a precaution to keep out those reckless adventure-seeking minds.

The tunnel entrance had goblin runes etched over its two sides. A pair of goblins walked up to each sides and waited, each touching a set of runes with their index finger. The tallest of them, the current Bank Manager and the Head of the Goblin's Order, Olrags Prurbanks stood right in the middle of the entrance and touched the keystone of the archway. Together the five men muttered, "merkt með töfra okkar innsigluðum af blóði okkar - við sverjum hollustu við Rognad Vakta", seven times, under their breath.

As soon as the archway started shimmering, they stepped back. The pitch-black entrance slowly revealed a flight of spiral stairs. One by one they walked down, cautiously staring all around. The stairs led them to a circular room lit up by twenty-one sconces. Every inch of the space was painted in dazzling gold. But none of them could pay much notice to any of it. Every pair of eyes were locked to the large red motif moving on the golden floor. It belonged to a fiercely burning dragon, that was breathing steam through its flared nostrils. The stifling air was hot on their face.

The whole place shook on its own a couple of times, forcing the Goblins to press themselves against the wall. Still, out of his depths, Prurbanks ordered," No one speaks of this. No one says, what we saw today. First thing in the morning, we seal off the next two levels right above the Tunnel That Drops Dead."

Gripgott, the goblin with rimmed glasses whispered," Can we do that? Many of the pureblood families got their vaults in those tunnels. They will oppose…"

Graud, the one behind him opined, siding with Prurbanks," If we don't keep the wizards away, Gringotts security will be at stake. We can't let the world know, its not just us guarding the place..."

Flixfag, clenched his fob chain and nodded," The dragon breathes, something to worry about, or maybe, just maybe... I never heard anyone say anything about it."

Olexbit peered at the ancient walls and spoke out," Look at the walls, they are painted with molten gold. Goblin Order members for centuries never dared to set foot inside. Every generation renewed their vows at the gates of the Tunnel That Drops Dead. Never heard of any soul travel this far."

Turning abruptly, gasping out of breath, Prurbanks said," Let's go up, we have seen enough."

Graud argued," But these vibrations..."

Stepping forward, Prurbanks stood taller and replied," No one else but for the five of us, feel it. We can't risk the wizards or the press getting a wind of it! Can we? I vote for keeping it quiet, which one of you thinks otherwise?"

The other four nodded agreeing with the Manager at once.

Olrags Prurbanks was not an ordinary Goblin. Much like his half brother, Filius Flitwick, he was an ace duelist and revered among the goblin colonies. Even the wizards paled in front of him. Unlike his father, he was rather fond of his half-sibling. He didn't much care if Filius rejected the Golbin's Order's offer to reside in the British Goblin colony and be a part of it. He was rather glad he didn't. The brother always loved Hogwarts and he was quite happy to find a place of his own up there. Olrags took pride in thinking himself to be related to the most brilliant charms professor Hogwarts had ever produced. Standing there inside the golden room with twenty one sconces, he thought he missed Filius the most.

Watching the old drawing of a dragon subtly moving, the Manager recalled the old tales. _Could that be possible?_ He shuddered by the mere thought of it.

Though the man was awfully quiet through the trip back to the lobby, he took time to see off the other four and hastily made his way back to his office. Grabbing a parchment he started penning a quick letter to his brother, "Rognad Vakta breathes. So the myth is not a myth, Brethren?"

He was about to add another line to it, but the arrival of a pygmy owl surprised him. Dropping a letter at his desk it flew away instantly. It was indeed quite late to receive owls. Furrowing his brows Olrags couldn't manage to recognize the crest. Held under the lampshade, it looked more like a bear face drawn inside a claw, gleaming much like flames of fire. There was just a single line in the letter. It said "Blar Reccr sighs, justice awaiting to be delivered."

Frowning harder, he studied the crest once again, and reread the line. Waving his hand over the parchment he tried to feel the lingering presence of the spells. Finally, unable to make any head or tail of the whole thing, he put the letter along with the one he wrote. This time adding another line to it, " See you at dinner over the weekends," he called for his personal owl, Rignot. Standing next to the open window, he watched the bird fly off over the tall chimneys of the Diagon Alley houses and shivered. The vibrations were sporadic, but Olrags was more unsettled, _"Why on earth am I thinking of the Isroza Herders instead of the Romanian Dragon Reserve Keepers?"_

* * *

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry  
****House-elves Quarters**  
Scotland

An house-elf popped in front of Dinty, the Hogwarts house-elf matriarch. Greeting her with a bow she said, "Those that serve magic old rejoice, for Uaine téitheoir caresses the ailing once again."

Dinty smirked and greeted her sister. Inviting her over to join her beside the burning hearth, she whispered," Hear that, Rintz. I guess, now you know why, Uaine caresses. I heard, Blar Recr sighs, and even the Rognad breathes. The Oldest Spirits are waking up."

Taking up the offered tumbler of firewhiskey, Rintz was excited to hear the humming of the ancient castle. She asked at once," Has Dinty seen the King herself?"

Dinty rolled her eyes and reminded house-elf dressed in a green and white pillowcase," The old tales talk of the children of Dark and Light...Dinty wonders so do the goblin professor."

Rintz nodded in understanding and sat quietly for a while relishing the humming vibrations. Finishing her drink, she stood up and leaned forward. Hugging her sister, she whispered," Rintz promises to keep her eyes and ears open. Rintz shall return back to St. Mungo's. Rintz serves Magic Old."

Dinty patted her affectionately and whispered back," Dinty thinks the Ancients will call for a council soon. Dinty serves Magic Old."

* * *

**Potter's Beautyfying Potions**  
**Diagon Alley**  
31th January 1960

Fleamont Potter couldn't quite believe himself when he received the urgent owl from Gringotts. Grabbing his robe he yelled for his secretary Mrs. Iris Firmbridge instructing her to handle the affairs of the day until he returned. He still had the floo powder held in his hand, when the fireplace of his office at Diagon Alley roared and the friendly face of Septimus Weasley came into view.

"Blimey, Mr. Potter, did you get the letter from the goblins, as well?"

"Ah, Mr. Weasley please do step in at once. I most certainly did get one. It sounds quite urgent. I wonder what just come up on a weekend day."

"I wasn't really meaning to be at my office either. But the Ministry seems to be quite rattled about something as well. Rumours are flying all about the place. They say, the Ministry shook on its grounds last night. I also heard a witch exclaim, even Hogwarts might crumble down! Unbelievable! Aurors won't say much. The youngest of them, Mr. Shacklebolt dropped by my office." Septimus Weasley spoke all at once while brushing away the soot of his robes.

"Reverend Shacklebolt. Hard-working man, quite a duelist...tragic, what happened to his family. What did he want?"

"Oh! The Aurors are everywhere. They are asking and snooping around every damn place. But I can say, they are mostly looking into the Archives and the Courtroom level. I will make a calculated guess, they must have torn apart the Department of Mysteries already. Shacklebolt and his partner Readersthorne knocked everything in our offices," bringing out his handkerchief the red-haired man wiped his brow.

"What are they looking for?" Raising his eyebrows, Fleamont asked.

"Won't say! But asked quite a handful of weird questions," Mr. Weasley huffed," I am telling you I don't like the sound of any of them. I am a junior undersectrary working myself into a knot at the Wizengamot not for nothing. Didn't quite enjoy getting interrogated, like that. They asked me whether I am hiding dark artifacts. Now, Mr. Potter, I might fancy muggle contraptions a bit more than the rest of our folks. But they aren't anything dark, are they?"

"No, no not at all!" the inventor of Sleekeazy hair potion consoled his young friend immediately. He glanced at the man and subtly turned his attention to the crumpled letter held on his other hand. " So, you were talking about the Gringotts Letter?"

The other wizard scowled at his own feet and blurted out, " We are not the only one. Almost all pureblood families received one. I saw my father in law, Mr. Black leading Abraxas Malfoy, accompanied by Mr. Greengrass, Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Rowle, and Mr. Pakinson storm out of the Atrium as I was getting on to the elevator. My secretary informed that they had hackled the Minister of Magic previously. Apparently Gringotts wishes to remodel their lowest levels."

"Remodel? Since when in Merlin's name can they do that!" Fleamont exclaimed.

"I heard those men mutter, the goblins are citing securities reasons. But you know Malfoys, Blacks, and Lestranges guard their vaults like vicious snakes. They are miffed, and they wanted the Ministry to intervene. Well, of course, Sir, you know that is not quite possible." Tapping the letter on his palm, Mr. Weasley offered.

Fleamont hummed thoughtfully," Well! One cannot question the Goblins, their laws are more stringent than ours. I was in fact on my way to the bank, would you like to join me?"

"Gladly, Mr. Potter. I was thinking along the same line," Mr. Weasley, squared his shoulders, looking much like a man with a mission.

* * *

merkt með töfra okkar innsigluðum af blóði okkar - við sverjum hollustu við Rognad Vakta (Icelandic) meaning marked by our magic sealed by our blood, we swear allegiance to Rognad Vakta.


	29. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: The same as the previous chapters.

* * *

**Chapter 28**

**House-elves Quarters below the Kitchen,  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry  
Scotland**  
30th January 1960

Dinty the matriarch, wriggled her fingers and paced about her room. Rintz watched her sister and exchanged worried glances with two other house-elves present in the Hogwarts House-elf matriarch's room. Figgs was the head of the house-elves employed by the Gringotts while his other brother Jiggs served at the Ministry of Magic.

The fact was none of them were here on their own will. Rintz had returned to St. Mungo's after paying a short visit to Figgs and Jiggs. A handful of house elf families were talking about it in hushed whispers. To say that they were excited was an understatement. The wizards had failed to notice it, that magic was not the same as it used to be. It was tampered and tainted not by blood but by evil intent.

Something or someone had called upon their magic and had forced them to apparate right into the woods close to the Great Lake a couple of hours before dawn. There they had found the ancient artifact. As soon as each one of them touched upon it, still debating its credibility and whether to involve the Headmaster of Hogwarts, they were apparated back in the bowels of the castle. They knew for sure, house elves' magic is stronger than that of wizards and witches, nearly at par with that of Goblins, but the magical energy that oozed out of the glowing horn-like structure was too powerful. They had already argued, this misplaced horn was not the reason for the castle to hum.

Dinty mumbled in hushed whispers," I knew, previously Ogg stole from the Room of Hidden Things. He could never resist the sight of shining things. But house-elves have looked all over this place for centuries. They could never find it. We will never know where the old Gameskeeper found it either. Looked everywhere, the man has simply vanished." She looked at the haphazardly gathered coat of the missing man and bit her lips.

Figgs hummed,"By the looks of it the thief might have chanced upon it. Hogwarts staff is quite alert tonight. Might have stumbled upon it, while looking around. The Adharc was elfen made. A supposed gift to honour the King who rode the fiercest dragon. Mother always said, old tales don't lie. I felt the magic!" When he looked about everyone was nodding their head in mute agreement.

Rintz sighed, and rubbed her face," Are you certain it will stay safe, where we put it this time?"

Figgs nodded and Jiggs spoke up," It belongs to Hogwarts after all. It carries the mark, the three Elven horns. The sign of Rihim, Rohim and Rouhirim. No house-elf ever heard it's call. The riders of the fire breathing beasts had left these shores, ages ago. But there are tales that only once did the older elven race hear it call for them. But instead of greeting them like old friends, they thought it was keening and so they wept. Rumour has it, the elders of three elven tribes sacrificed their lives and magic to protect the noble friend."

Dinty said, "The founders were wizards of the later kind. Of course they never knew the story. All they knew for certain was that the mountain and the lake, the forest around whispered magic into the elements around. The Older Folks thought they heard of it once again during the Goblin Rebellion. But our cousins the Goblins, the descendants of Rodnad and Rihim-nan, the daughter of Rihim, just could never find it. The line of Rohim died off. But we carry forward the blood of Rouhirim to this day."

"Do you believe the rest? The chosen one, the redeemed and reborn raven will come back. He alone will find the door to the chamber where the King sleeps. The fruit of Evanstar and the Cursed Lover will carry his Goblin's Teeth… the king will join in spirit to defend Old Magic?" Figgs said, his eyes shining under the candle lights.

Dinty flopped back in her bed, feeling exhausted," We just know the castle is awake. We will have to wait for the rest to happen. Our elders vowed to stand by magic Old. I say, we honour that. Until then, we will do everything to keep it safe and out of everyone's sight. We can't allow anyone to steal it away again."

Rintz asked once again, "We tried taking it away, but we couldn't. Every time, we got apparated back into that chamber below the Lake. Hogwarts wanted us to put it back in there. Once we placed it at the bottom of the basin of swirling mist, we got whisked off into your quarters."

Figgs turned and corrected," Well, that's because it carries the Mark as well. It belongs to Hogwarts. Hogwarts wants to hide it. It called us to help it hide it. Figgs wonders why does not the castle trust its own walls," then looking around he whispered, "The castle no longer hums, neither does the Bank. The Goblin Order knows Ragnad is awake."

"So is the Ministry of Magic, but Blar Reccr is quiet. Dinty, do you think it was a false alarm?" Jiggs asked the eldest.

"Time will say what happens next. Though the rest of the castle sleeps, Dinty knows the Headmaster weeps under the stars. Dinty has little hope in finding the chamber once again. Hogwarts is more awake than we think." the House elf Matriarch mumbled pensively.

* * *

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry  
Scotland**  
31st January 1960

Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick watched the students disperse once the breakfast was over. The Headmaster in his short address had already assured the residents of the school that perhaps, the sentient castle had come up with a rare kind of a cold, given the harsh winter they were experiencing this year. But she knew the older students saw right through that joke. Anyone would because The Daily Prophet had printed a unique story about it.

"_**Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic shook on its grounds yesterday!"**_

Apart from fabrications on the involvement of Dark Magic for which the reporter couldn't provide any substantial proof, the whole thing was indeed a fantastic fairy tale. One could expect nothing less from Junas Lockhart.

Hurdled in small groups several of them were still trying to come up with a better explanation or in Flitwick's word giving birth to fresh sets of rumours. The Slytherins too were thoughtful and jittery. Slughorn shared that many of his snakes had knocked at his doors first thing in the morning complaining about someone or something moving in the walls under the floor right below them, throughout the night.

The Gryffindors were already planning to conduct a search all by themselves, which Minerva had managed to nip it at the bud itself. Roger Amorim, one of her prefects, had the better sense to go behind his scheming housemates and report it to both the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress, right before breakfast. Bilius Weasley the Head Boy was already working on a plan along with the Head Girl Susan Jones to ensure more safety for the prefects going on their rounds later in the evenings.

Among all these humdrum, neither of the professors missed the frown that crossed over Albus Dumbledore's face on receiving a standard letter from the Gringotts Bank. The three of them were supposed to go down to Hogsmeade Village later in the day, but the Headmaster excused himself in the last minute.

Trudging down the path that ran down the hill skirting beside the Forbidden Forest, Minerva McGonagall couldn't help but ask his diminutive companion," How did you know about my mother?"

Filius Flitwick chuckled," You were once my student Minerva."

"That does not explain why you would remember about my mother most singularly. You have been a part of the faculty for a long time." the Witch replied guardly.

"Though I never had the honour to teach her. I did hear quite a lot about Isobel Ross. She was in the Quidditch Team and was exceptionally good at Transfiguration and Aritmancy. She was good at making magical artifacts, my mentors used to say." Staring back at the grumpy witch he huffed and cleared," Much like Albus, I keep a track of Wizards and Witches who have peculiar talents."

"And you drabble with folklores as well?" making sure that they were truly alone, the witch whispered.

"Ah! I have a peculiar interest in them," the goblin wizard smiled.

"Filius, can you be honest with me?" she stopped on her tracks and turned to face him.

"Minerva, when have I lied to you?" the goblin looked up.

"All I am asking is why did you tell me that tale about dragons yesterday? Why not any other day?" the witch asked straight away, " You saw that glass ball, didn't you? What do you know about it?"

"Minerva," looking around, the half goblin pleaded," why don't we talk about this later one. I promise I will try to answer your questions as honestly as I can."

"Very well then, and one more thing, how did you know Albus is…" the witch was cut off when both of them saw Abeforth Dumbledore walking up the path with Hagrid. Held in Hagrid's arms was none other than Ogg, the current Keeper of the Keys and grounds of Hogwarts.

* * *

A/N: Well, every magical creature has their own version of stories attached to the myth.


	30. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: The same as the previous chapters.

* * *

**Chapter 29**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry  
Scotland**  
31st January 1960

Aberforth Dumbledore had heaved a sigh of relief when Hagrid pointed out the two people coming their way. Carrying Ogg down the hill was a laborious task. It was a boon to meet the half-giant. He knew his goats were following them, but he couldn't bring himself to turn back. He didn't like the way he found the gameskeeper. Stone-cold and without his robes and coat, arms arched at odd angles and eyes open as if he had seen something terrifying. He was glad to see it was not his brother, but Filius Flitwick and Minerva McGonagall.

The professors had all but ran to the two. Abeforth filled them in, without stopping on his track," I found him way up the mountain beyond the Great Lake, today morning, while grazing my goats. He is petrified, Filius. I couldn't do much either. Tried sending a Patronus Won't work until I reached the Great Lake..."

Hagrid was sniffling as he walked ahead of them," He was too old to go hiking, if you ask. I can't understand why on earth he would go up there in all the places."

Minerva had already sent her patronus to the Headmaster and Filius had sent one to Madam Moonstone at the infirmary. The witch had hastily followed the half-giant back to school failing to notice that the other two men were not following her right away.

Abeforth grabbed at Filius's arm and dragged him behind one of the tall trees. In hushed whispers, he informed the agitated goblin," I think I found it Fil. I think that petrified Ogg. You know for sure the old man has a tendency to nick things, lying around unattended. He still frequents Knockturn Alley, rumour has it."

"What? Abe now is not the time to talk about such things!" Filius asked, unable to keep his emotions under control.

" I know the castle is Alive. Albus and Me, we might not see eye to eye, but I do care about him. I know the Minister is giving him a hard time. I know Abraxas is after him. In all of this, I would like to count on you, Fil. We have been friends. I believe you, I have always, more than Albus at times."

"I know all that Abe. But now is not the time to…" the goblin tried to free his arm and half-heartedly console his friend.

"No, wait, Fil, just wait." Bringing out a deep red velvet cloth, the man with grey beard cautiously opened one of its folds.

"I can tell this is the mark of the Adharc. I am certain the Goblin Rebellion was just a cover-up. All this while, all the Goblins wanted was to find Gul Vilt's Horn. The mythical Adharc. I know I have not made a mistake. I saw the same mark in one of the tunnels under the Inn," Abe whispered and finally let go of Filius's arm.

Swaying on his feet, the charms professor desperately tried to school his features. He ran his fingers over the golden thread and mumbled, utterly awestruck," Adharc an gaisgeach. Where did you find it?"

"I thought of showing it to you before Albus took a look at it. I think I did the right thing. You see my brother is quite wary when it comes to dragons," the man continued to blabber, pointing at the dragon head sewn right above the mark of three horns.

Covering the thing, Filius gestured to the man to hide it back in his cloak. Looking around, making sure no one was hearing into their conversation, he whispered," But where did you find it?"

"Ogg had it tucked in his fist. Tell me, Fil, is the castle truly alive. Is my brother in danger? He doesn't show it, but he is aggrieved about something. I can say it is not just the pain of killing Grindlewald. I did frown upon their friendship, but killing a person who was once your dear friend… it hurts"

Cutting him midway, Flitwick said, trying not to wait anymore, "Why do you think I stick about this old castle, Abe? Not for Albus alone, but for everything this whole place stands for. Of course, I will continue to do everything in my power to guard Albus."

"Thank you, Filius, honestly, thank you. People think him to be indomitable, but I know my brother," Abe sighed.

The professor spoke urgently, "Okay, alright. I see. We speak of it somewhere more private. Olrags is supposed to come down for dinner. We cannot let Albus go anywhere near it," pointing at the bulge in the other man's cloak, he swiftly added,' Does Hagrid.."

"NO. I met him at the foot of the hill. He was out there screaming his lungs out, calling Ogg. He said he didn't wish to disturb Albus, with the things happening in the school currently. " Aberforth quickly replied.

"Good, good that's good. He is too loyal to Albus. Do you remember the place where you found the old Gameskeeper? Because Albus would want to see it...The aurors...oh dear!" Filius asked.

"What is it, Fil?" the innkeeper asked, alarmed.

"Abe, listen to me. Just keep quiet, and just say, whatever you have told Hagrid and Minerva. I will try...but how can we keep the aurors away?" running his hand over his face, Flitwick thought hard.

"I guess it is possible if your goblins are ready to help."

Fishing out a parchment, Filius wrote down a short letter and shoved it in Abeforth's waiting hands, "Send it right away. And wait at the backdoor of the Inn. You can't quite leave, you know that. I think my half brother will send Flixfag and Graud, just show them the place. If it is truly the mythical Adharc, they will know how to get it away, before the wizards arrive."

"What about the other staff of Hogwarts? I was quite confused, Albus was supposed to feel if Ogg was out on his own. Are the protective wards around Hogwarts tampered with?" Abe asked.

Furrowing his brows, Flitwick shook his head," If that was the case, the headmaster and the deputy headmistress would have felt it right away. I will try to keep Albus engaged, while you deal with the task in hand."

"Filius, do you truly believe the Goblin Tales?" staring at the general direction of the Great Lake, the Hogsmeade Innkeeper shuddered slightly.

"I believe in Old Magic, Abe. If it is somehow waking up once again, there is a valid reason behind it. There is no smoke without fire."

With that, he took off, as quickly as he could. He could still see Hagrid's tall frame. The half-giant was almost at the front steps. Filius could also make out two people coming out of the castle. Albus Dumbledore and the medi- witch Madam Moonstone were still close to the entrance and a small crowd of students had gathered around them.

Cursing under his breath, he doubled his pace, trying to come up with a proper lie to cover up Abeforth's absence.

Albus Dumbledore didn't miss the sight of Aberforth leaving Filius at the gates. He was aware of their friendship. Filius and Abe had become close friends in his absence. In many ways, the charms professor acted as his only way to check on his own estranged brother. At the same time, he was certain, the half-goblin functioned much like a second in command. Though he could never understand why did Flitwick turn down the offer of being his deputy. Minerva was young, but Filius had pointed out, she was driven.

But the time Flitwick had joined them, several other members of the staff had arrived. Standing next to the Headmaster, while moonstone ran several diagnostic spells over the pale body of Ogg, the charms professor panted," Abe found him like that in the woods you must have heard from Hagrid. But it is quite surprising, he couldn't manage to produce his Patronus to alert us right away. He said he just couldn't. That man is quite shaken. What do you think is up there, Albus? Have you ever ventured in those woods all by yourself, right beside the Great Lake?"

Minerva was standing near the Medi witch. She pried, "What do you think happened with him? Is there something in there that did this to our gameskeeper?"

Albus Dumbledore furrowed his brows and stroke his beard. A little later, he brought his wand and muttered a couple of spells, along with those still running over the petrified man. He turned slightly at the charms professor," that's odd, Filius. Don't you think?"

Flitwick gulped and nodded," Nothing vicious, definitely not a dark spell. But absolutely pure in nature. Is that even possible Headmaster?"

The Deputy Headmistress huffed and cut in," Oh! Please speak in a way so that we all can understand!"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled when he spoke next," It is safe to say, Minerva, that Mr. Ogg was up to no good and someone managed to teach him a lesson of sorts. Alas! As we can see our reviving spells are not working on him. We will have to wait till it wears off on its own. But I am most curious about what he was doing up there on a freezing Sunday, that too without his robes and coat?"

"Albus, shall we call the Aurors, we can't look around all by ourselves," Slughorn suggested, eying the patient warily.

"Now, now, Horace, let us not jump into conclusions. Anyways, the students aren't supposed to go into the Forbidden Forest or the up the hills. We can go down and see for ourselves, just to be sure. But before that, I need to talk to Abe, after all, he was the first one to find our keeper of the Keys," the Headmaster nodded at the rest of them and asked Madam Moonstone politely," if it's not a problem, I would like to use your floo connection?"

Watching the headmaster enter the medi-witch's office, Filius Flitwick crossed his fingers. McGonagall approached him," Filius, are you certain it is noting vile or vicious? Ogg is quite old…"

"Minerva, I will go with what Albus just said, we will wait for it to wane off," the Charms professor replied.

"And why couldn't Abreforth produce a patronus?" she persisted.

"I suppose Albus is trying to figure that out as we speak." the man offered, praying hard that Albus wouldn't miss catching up with his brother.


	31. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: The same as the previous chapters.

* * *

**Chapter 30**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry  
Scotland**  
31st January 1960

Filius Flitwick stood by the window of his Ravenclaw Head of the House Office breathing hard. His eyes were trained to the distant treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the hoops of the Quidditch Field. Rignot, his brother's owl, usually flew over the Hogsmeade Village and took a turn at the Quidditch field before making his way to his office. He had excused himself from the infirmary telling the others, he would look into his personal library and try to understand the nature of the petrificus spell still keeping Ogg in a comatose state.

His brother's letter had made him restless. The Old Allegiances were resurfacing all at once. The Claw and the Bear face was the mark of the Old Nomads. The claws represented the Spears and the bear stood for the Shackles. Within hours he had seen yet another lost sign.

The three horns of the Elven tribes. It was believed once these lands the mountains, the forest and the lakes around belonged to the three Elf tribes who loved to nurture. The tribe heads had called for Gul Vilt's aid, when rogue dragons had threatened to demolish their settlements. Suffice to say, the Dragon Rider honoured the request. As a token of gratitude the elves had given him their word, that in these lands he will always find shelter and to mark their friendship they gifted him the Adharc, the bravest.

The humming of the Hogwarts castle and the Ministry, the House elves shying away from the occupants of the castle, the sign of the Adharc, Rodnad was awake, which meant even Gringotts had experienced the tremors.

Turning away from the window, the half goblin schooled his features and called out, " Hogwarts House elf Matriarch I need your counsel on a matter of grave importance."

He waited with bated breath until a female House elf appeared in front of him. She was a couple of inches shorter than him, yet Dinty's eyes were stern and fierce.

"Dinty Serves Hogwarts," she said rather proudly.

"Filius Flitwick serves Hogwarts," the Ravenclaw Head bowed and sealed his office with a strong silencing and locking spell.

The magical creature watched him closely and tilted her head up whispering, " Charms Master says he needs Dinty's counsel."

Nodding, Filius thought better to earn her trust first. House elves were more rigid in their ways than the Goblins. He said," I know Ogg was not petrified by the invisible guardians of Hogwarts."

Dinty smirked, appreciating the Ravenclaw's gesture of honouring the most significant ways of house elves operations. When she said nothing in return, Filius gathered his courage to ask another question," The founder's chambers are all demolished but for one, that was never found. It remains closed as we speak?"

Dinty narrowed her eyes and offered," The founders are not alive, though a vile monster lurks around, it is not the one that hums."

Feeling a chill run down his spine, he asked again," Do the house-elves protect their gift to Hogwarts?"

Dinty smiled, her lips stretched till the ends of her batty ears and her eyes shone. "Charms Master, Hogwarts is more than capable of protecting what is dear to him."

Biting his lips, fisting his hands, Filius asked one last question," Old Allegiances, do they wish to regroup?"

Before vanishing away, Dinty whispered, " Only when every piece of the whole decides to rally to the King. Dinty hopes that the Charms Master will always honour Magic Old."

In the empty office, Filius hopped on his feet in excitement. Writing a short letter to the bank manager, he called for his owl. He was no longer waiting for Rignot, rather he wanted the day to end and meet his half brother as soon as possible. Graud's owl, Hook flew in and dropped a message. Nipping at his fingers, it flew out as quietly as it came.

The message had no name or signature but the Half Goblin was expecting its content, "The forest has nothing else to offer, besides the distant whispers of Old."

"Oh! Olrags, you will have to believe me this time, it is going to happen for sure!" he whispered. Walking up to the fireplace he flooed to the infirmary to join the rest and hear what Albus had gathered from his brother.

* * *

**Gringotts Bank,**  
**Diagon Alley**  
31st January 1960

Olrags Prurbanks realized that perhaps it was the worst day of his life. He couldn't manage to sleep last night. Instead of disturbing his wife, he had spent most of his time in the study, pouring through old scrolls and journals kept by his forefathers. Every generation had documented their lives and their times. But one thing was common in all of them. Magic was withering away.

Almost every head of the Goblin Order had relinquished his powers to the next with the warning, "Unless Old Magic breathes out a new lease of life, the world we know as today, will perish very soon. The wizards are already digging their graves. Keep your eyes to the horizons, ears trained to catch the whispers of the wind, and your feet planted on the ground. Old Allegiance will once come knocking at our doors, we must be prepared to recognize our friends from our foes."

Abe's letter came in while he was still overseeing the plans of relocating nearly fifty-odd vaults. Graud and Flixfag were there with him deep into the tunnels right above Rodnad's Golden Room. Gripgott and Olexbit were at their offices busy compiling and documenting the assets of the owners of those vaults. First thing in the morning the two of them had sent off the official letters. Olrags had had a gruesome hour dealing with the first wave of wizards. He had stood his ground when the Blacks, LeStranges, Goyles, and Rowles insisted on overseeing the transfer of their assets to their newest locations," Once things are in order, we will invite each one of you to glance through your new vaults."

Abraxas Malfoy's silky voice and gleaming eyes had put a stop to the commotion," Now, gentlemen, Mr. Prurbanks, please, we are certainly not questioning the decision of the Goblins. We are just worried about our own things. It is understandable with Hogwarts Castle and the Ministry itself shaking on their grounds, the Bank is just making sure that several of its esteemed patrons' trust remains intact and their treasures secured, am I right?"

Grinding his teeth, Olrags had squared his shoulders and nodded back," Precisely." He knew then and there, the Minister of Magic, the aurors and if young Mr. Malfoy was eager to stretch it, the Wizengamot would be summoning him for an explanation. Perhaps once again, these wizards would try to curb the freedom enjoyed by the Goblins.

Figgs popped inside his airy chamber and handed him some more appointment slips. Olrags never drank during office hours, but today was exceptional. He mumbled to the house elf," Figgs can you get me a quarter glass of tour-mead?"

The house elf leaned forward and pulled at its batty ear," The Master is wanting tour-mead...Figgs is confused, Master is still working. Yet yet, it is Sunday."

Plastering a rueful smile, Olrags nearly pleaded," Figgs, you have known me since my wee years. Have you ever seen such a day before?"

Nodding his head, the house elf cautiously whispered," The elf brethren felt _His_ hot breath as well. But the Father rests once again."

"All of you felt that as well?" Olrags muttered surprised..

The house elf nodded.

"But now He sleeps, you said?"

The house elf nodded again.

Rubbing his forehead the Goblin sighed and studied him. Standing up, he crouched next to the Patriarch of house elves serving Gringott and the Goblin colonies around England.

"Figgs, I always refer to you as brethren. I honour the old ways by doing that. If things were still the same way, we would have been rightful cousins. Our magic is dying."

"Figgs knows, but Figgs is not worried. Figgs wants brethren master to trust his instincts. The darkest of hours are upon us for sure, but Hogwarts sings in praise of the Northern Star. Charms Master and Master of the Goblin Order will find those lost friends. Together they once again will rally to the King." Placing his hand over the goblin's shoulder the House elf assured.

"Very well, Figgs, if you are asking me to continue believing in the Old Tales, so be it. Brethren please, in order to deal with the rest of the snarling and scowling wizards and witches, I would need…"

Figgs snapped his finger and a tumbler filled with deep red bubbling liquid hovered before the Bank Manager. Olrags smirked and downed it. Smacking his lips, he said before the House elf popped away. "Figgs, would you mind keeping a bottle ready for my brother as well? And please show Mr. Reverend Shacklebolt in."

The tall man with dark skin and broad shoulders walked in and bowed. Prurbanks had previously dealt with Mrs. Emrosa Shacklebolt. This was the first time he was meeting Reverend Shacklebolt in person. In a tragic accident, the young father had lost his loving wife while the grandmother lost her wand arm. The young ones, a one year old boy and a newborn baby girl had escaped unharmed. Soon after they had shifted to England, Orlags had received a formal request from old Mrs. Shacklebolt to transfer everything in her vault under the name of her son and her grandchildren.

"Mr. Reverend Shacklebolt, my condolences. I can explain…" Olrags started with his rehearsed speech, but the young man stopped him.

"Mr. Prurbanks, I am not going to question your decisions. You must have taken them in the right state of mind," unclasping his auror badge, the man kept it on the Banker's desk and softly said," I am here not as an auror. Neither do I wish to waste both of our valuable time. Please tell me, where do you need my signature?"

Once the man had patiently signed about thirty-odd parchments, Olrags said, gathering them," That's all, when the official procedure is over, we will inform you through an owl…"

The man chuckled and offered, while picking up his Auror badge, "The Shacklebolt family is as old as the Goblins. Last night, both my mother and I were wondering the same thing. You see we found it strange that the older magical creatures are yet to locate the keepers of the King's Treasure."

Stilling his hands, Olrags arched his brow, but the other man shook his head and murmured, "The house-elves and the goblins are the remnants of the ancient world. But if you look closer there are others around as well, who hid in plain sight, fearing they would be mistreated and misunderstood. Darkness hangs about the horizon still, it is high time, you find out who are your true friends. Blar Reccr and Rodnad were brothers after all. The Boeie are reaching out to their kins the Spiese. The humming all over the country has stopped, but is it truly gone?"

For a moment, Mr. Shacklebolt opened both the insides of his palms and had joined them together. Upon the left one, Prurbanks could see the claw-shaped scar and upon the other, he could see its roaring bear-shaped companion. When he looked up, he saw the man with yellow streaked rich chocolate brown eyes giving him a piercing look. He murmured in a low voice," My cousins are not too difficult to spot. Their marks are just switched."

He mumbled something under his breath. The goblin watched the palms glow and raised scars reside into the skin and vanish out of sight. Reverend Shacklebolt mused," Effective and untraceable and tuned to our personal magical signature. Far better than ordinary glamour spells. My son and my daughter already have them, it saved them from the ambush. My wife was partly veela, her family had long since discontinued pledging their allegiance to Old Magic. For the mistakes of her forefathers, she had to pay for the price."


	32. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: The same as the previous chapters.

* * *

Chapter 31

Gringotts Bank  
Diagon Alley  
31st January 1960

Mr. Fleamont Potter was an amicable man. Despite being a pureblood wizard, he had the uncanny capacity to mingle among all works of life without drawing much attention to himself. If he was to wear a muggle made three piece suit and walk in a muggle opera house, he wouldn't have drawn exceptional attention to himself. Well of course, he did have the charisma to entice both men and women alike so much so no one would notice that his walking stick hid his wand, or that his pocket watch also functioned as a portkey. In the face of crisis it would simply whisk him away to the foray of his Potter Manor.

He was an inventor to the last dot, a family man who loved his wife, a philanthropist who unanimously donated to the Hogwarts trust fund which paid for the education of children coming from difficult homes. He made a fortune out of his revolutionary invention, 'the sneekeazy hair potion', but most of his closest friends would say, it was the least he had ever invented.

The man never professed to live a life as flamboyant as the Malfoys nor did he incline to the malicious ways of the Prince and the Blacks. He once said to the American Wizardry press while launching his line of products there, "Since you can't buy happiness, I prefer to run after it by just being content."

Sitting in the waiting room of the Gringotts Bank, Mr. Septimus Weasley kept glancing at the man beside him, busy stroking his beard and took in a deep breath. Even his glasses were revolutionary, something he just picked up from the muggles and carried off like it had always belonged in the Magical world. It had a catchy name too.

Weasley couldn't help but mumble under his breath with a little smile on his face," The clubmaster glasses."

They had stopped by Mr. Potter's workshop before arriving at the Bank, to discuss the most vital thing of the hour.

Stepping out of the fireplace, Fleamont had made a beeline for the counter across the room where he kept his decanters while Septimus himself stood near the showcases where the owner of the establishment stored few of his handy prototypes. Eyeing a 'every ladies' personal knitter' he said in a matter of fact,"Do you think it is wise to retrieve it today itself?"

Handing the guest a glass of firewhiskey, Fleamont brooded,'' We have to take the risk. With the Dumbledores out of the picture, it is upto the two of us to guard the last message of the Fallen fire breather, the Shroud of Markings".

"There are days I wonder, why late Mr. Percival Dumbledore never told his sons about it? There are times, I flip through my grandfather's journals and have this nagging feeling that maybe he had foreseen the strange turn of events. But it is just the two of us now...Bilius never heard the song of Phoenix, but Arthur heard it," Weasley trailed off.

"Euphemia's pregnancy is risky, but Healers tell me it is a boy. I am praying to Merlin that little Jimmy hears it when the time comes…" Fleamont murmured quietly.

"Jimmy as in James? That is a fitting name." Septimus beamed.

The other pursed his lips and murmured, I know I could have asked both Cedrella and you to be his godparents, but this time it was the turn of the Longbottoms."

"Mr. Potter! It is all the same, Godfather or not, we will spoil the child nevertheless! He took too long to come to us!" the younger wizard piped.

Nodding his head, Fleamont grabbed his hand and asked expectantly," Septimus, I want to extract an oath from you, therefore I got us in here in the first place."

"Mr. Potter both of us are descendants of the Phoenix and the Griffins, tied with blood oaths through generations. So what if the Dumbledore brothers couldn't have the chance to be a part of it. We guard them and stand by them, because that is the right thing to do, because we look after our own. You know I have your back. What's got you so worried?"

"I know, I know, Sept, I am not doubting it...but in case something happens to me, or Merlin forbids, in case something happens to any of my descendants, promise me today, that the Weasleys will stand by the Potters? That we will continue to share the responsibilities of guarding the last message of the Fire breather, till the time comes."

The young kin gave his word and felt the griffin mark over his sternum sizzle a bit. Fleamont rubbed over his chest as well and smiled in gratitude. Looking into his empty glass, he set it gently over the mantle and murmured," During both our school years, we have searched for the clues to where the King sleeps but failed. And now the castle hums and vibrates. We have no one of our own apart from Bilius to find out what is truly happening there. I know every pureblood family is hunting for an answer in their own ways. I can't bring myself to trust the Slytherins. There is hardly anyone among them who share the virtues that Old Magic stood for. I don't know about the Hufflepuffs. That leaves us with the Ravenclaws."

"It is just a thought, a daring one, but you know just a thought. Have you considered Professor Flitwick? Or for that matter, Mr. Olrags Prurrbanks himself?" the red haired man suggested.

"It is a huge risk, but without anyone showing us how to decode the Old Message...yes, you are correct, the Goblins regard the Charms professor highly and even the House Elves respect him. Here is a thing we can do, we can drop a hint to Olrags and see what he has to say. Well then, let's go. I have promised my wife, I will be home for supper. I was planning to stop at Hogsmeade before that. The Mrs demands a hamper from the Honeydukes. Would you mind joining me?" picking some floo powder the man asked.

Mr. Weasley chuckled and replied," if we have time, I was meaning to check on the Headmaster and his brother after reading that drivel in the Prophet. I also had to thank our former transfiguration Professor…"

"Whatever for…" the other asked, genuinely interested.

"She happened to direct me to the most appropriate articles regarding animagus transformation. We are thinking of bringing a bill regarding that. But you know how slow things are at Wizengamot. I will have to lay the general idea down before asking the headmaster's help…" the young man rolled his eyes.

"Oh! That's remarkable, I would like to read them as well, if you could share just the articles," throwing the floo powder into the fireplace, Mr. Fleamont finally shouted, "Gringotts Banks".

Mr. Shacklebolt had spotted the two wizards almost immediately. He looked about and realised, being a bank holiday, the place was empty and almost all the summoned wizards had already made an appearance within the first hour.

Walking straight up to the two men he greeted them. "Good morning, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, the worst way to spend a sunday, I presume!"

The red hair man threw back," Could have been better without you and that awful partner of yours breathing hard on our necks at the Ministry!"

Bowing his head, Young Shacklebolt lowered his voice and offered," Accept my heartfelt apologies, Mr. Weasley. I'm being watched by Crickley's men, I couldn't go soft on those I like and call friends. I have to continue being unbiased."

Potter patted his back and agreed," Yes, we do need sane Aurors around to hear the voice of the innocents," he winked playfully, but the others knew he wasn't joking either.

The three were standing close together in the waiting area. A house elf walked in with a woman in tow. Shacklebolt failed to recognize her, but Fleamont being the oldest among the three of them informed, with an arch of his brow," Mrs. Aida Pince I won't be expecting her. Instead given the unique circumstances I would rather expect the hot tempered snarling absolutely eccentric cousin of hers, Marcus Prince."

He excused himself. Walking up to the woman dressed in midnight blue robes, he greeted her genially." Mrs. Pince, is it? Though I have known you as Miss Prince for the most part of my long and ordinary life."

Aida smirked," There is nothing ordinary about an ace duelist called Fleamont Potter who is so proud of his mother's name that he would not stop on hexing his classmates to the next week or worse the next year. I had my money on you getting into the Auror program. Instead, I find my eldest daughter praising your invention. Now, that happens to be the story of a man who has led an eventful life. How is Mrs. Potter?"

"I did learn a lot of those skills, especially how to mislead the opponent till the very end from your dueling techniques, Madam. Urm, Euphemia, we are expecting!"

Aida's stoic face broke into a genuine smile," After all these years. It is indeed a miracle. Congratulations."

"Forgive me if I am prying, but you were the last person anybody would expect, at the bank today of all days?"

"Marcus is too ill to come, I am here on his behalf."

"I see. I often hear a lot about your daughters from the gryffindors still attending school. Especially your youngest seems to have got the sharpest claws."

"I wouldn't apologise for bringing up both my daughters as independent women."

"I won't accept any either," turning and gesturing at Shacklebolt and Septimus, he introduced the widow to the two other men.

Aida nodded at Septimus and said," I had the honour of dueling with your eldest brother, Thaddeaus Weasley, he was in my year. Quite a strategist. We believed he would find a lucrative position in the Wizengamot once out of school, he was way beyond his years. Sad to hear he died of Dragon Pox."

"My condolences Mrs. Pince, we heard you lost your husband in the same way."

With a curt nod, she changed the topic," My youngest daughter mentions Mr. Bilius Weasley in her letters, she speaks rather highly of the current Hogwarts head boy. That is something to be proud of."

"Thank you, he wants to pursue Quidditch or Wizard's Chess, says desk work would kill him in the very first month. My youngest Arthur will start school next year." The red haired man gushed.

"Indeed how fast these children grow up," she noticed Shacklebolt listening to their conversation. He was yet to say a word so she referred to him next,"My condolences Mr. Shacklebolt. As a woman I might not be in a position to offer much. But if you ever need help regarding anything else, do tell Emrosa, Aida Pince is never the one to back out of her promises. Not a day goes by that I don't grief her loss. She is a strong willed woman, she always had been. I am sure she will find it in her to start living her life in her own terms once again. I assure you that she will, for the sake of her child and her grandchildren."

Figgs apparated right in front of the small group and informed the woman, "The Manager wishes to see Mrs. Aida Pince, next. If Madam would follow me this way."

Aida turned but to the Reverend Shacklebolt and said," What the Ministry of Magic needs at this hour is an auror on whom the Magical community of Britain can count without second thoughts. I wish the very best to you, Mr. Shacklebolt. Goodbye gentlemen." Three men watched her walk down the long waiting room with her head held high and her back straight.

Weasley informed Potter after a while, "Strange, isn't it? Marcus Prince, the huge roaring man, the scrooge sends his cousin? Not even his only daughter, but cousin? Now, I am not really complaining, Aida Pince is a level headed woman, yet peculiar isn't it?"

"The odd one to slither out of the dungeon full of snakes. No wonder her girls took after her free thoughts and got sorted in different houses." Mr. Potter observed.

Shacklebolt whispered," Stranger still Mr. Weasley. I overheard Mr. Black speaking to Mr. Alvery and Bulstrode, this year they have cut off several of the old names from the List of pureblood families. My mother has already withdrawn her support citing differences of opinion. I heard him say, they could do away with the Prince as well, no need to keep a chair for a raving lunatic."

Potter said," Good thing, I stood aside long ago and Weasley here hasn't attended a single gathering of the Sacred Circle either. The world around us is changing, Reverend and we need to keep up with it."


	33. Chapter 32

Disclaimer: The same as the previous chapters.

* * *

Chapter 32

Gringotts Bank  
Diagon Alley  
31st January 1960

Aida sat straight and rigid, while she explained Marcus Prince's deteriorating health. Even after she had finished, Olrags continued to study the letter supplied by their family doctor. Healer Edgar Spencer was favored by many of the pureblood families. The man's vault was in the newer section, so he was not summoned today.

Satisfied, he asked her, "I have a general idea of your predicament Madam, what is that I can do for you?"

Aida tilted her head and stated," I cannot be a claimant to the assets, neither can Marcus's wife.

Olrags replied," well in the absence of a son...Mr. Prince does have a daughter?"

"Yes, he has...but."

"What is it?"

"Recently, the father and the daughter had a fall out."

"But we haven't received any official request…"

"Because the master of the manor is too ill to place one."

"Mrs. Pince, are you here because of the official summon alone?"

"Mr. Prurbanks, I am here to make sure that the Prince's assets and its various holdings including the estate does not perish. "

"I see, well, if you would wait a bit?"

He returned with an old envelope and handed it over to her.

"What is in it?"

"About seventeen years ago, Mr. Marcus Prince had instructed Gringotts that if he is fatally ill, madam Aida Pince is entrusted to handle his affairs. Since no fresh request to change the previously drawn instructions are placed, the bank will accept these words written on this parchment valid and act accordingly. You can see for yourself it was witnessed and attested by your family lawyer, late Mr. Lance Abott." sitting down in his chair Prurbanks clarified.

Aida Pince read through the legal paper, then handed yet another parchment to the bank manager.

Giving it a quick glance, Olrags frowned, "I don't understand, why do you wish to function as a nominated trustee?"

"As of now, all I can tell you Mr. Prurbanks, I am just making sure the Prince line does not perish before its time. I will also be requesting you to draw a couple of confidential documents on a future date. Since Mr. Abott is dead, I would like to suggest the name of Mr. Septimus Weasley." the woman shared.

"Well, that will do, he is currently employed by the Wizengamot…"

Encouraged by his words, Aida instructed, "As for shifting the contents of the vault, you have my permission to do that. The Prince line has trusted the Goblins since the day they arrived in England and they will continue to do so until the end of our times."

The Goblins felt the stoic woman was trying to tell him something else altogether. But he shrugged it off thinking perhaps every other person was trying to tell him a lot of things. Showing the woman off of his office, he wished the day to end. It was a sunday, yet given the circumstances, he was at office, but he desperately wanted to speak to Filius. The half brother was a seasoned listener and sharp minded. But instead, he found Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley eagerly waiting in the lobby, accompanied with young Mr. Shacklebolt.

* * *

Olrags Prurbanks eyed the two wizards sitting across the table in trepidation. Though Fleamont Potter and Septimus Weasley were intimidating, yet they were quite intuitive. Filius had shared remarkable stories about the two men. It was true that neither attended Hogwarts together.

Fleamont Potter had a band of young wizards following him and looking up to him over the period of time. The man dressed in a rich burgundy robes in turn was good friends with the current Headmaster. The two had sat quietly while the Banker explained to them the doctored reason for the whole shifting process. Potter had watched him with piercing eyes while Weasley studied the documents they were to sign.

Handing him a letter the renowned inventor spoke, " We know we can trust the Goblins. Try as hard as some wizards can, they will not find faults with your security system. But we take it you will require a handful of days to get things normalised?"

"Yes, the Bank will be closed for tomorrow. Especially the vaults situated in the bottom most levels. If there is anything you wish to extract from your vaults..."

Weasley spoke up, handing over his signed documents," Ahem, well both of us would like to withdraw from our vaults."

When Olrags narrowed his eyes, Potter returned his signed documents and smiled, " Oh! Of course, we would want you to oversee the whole thing. I don't think it will take much of your time, Mr. Prurbanks?"

"I am just a little surprised it is after all a peculiar request."

Potter chuckled again and nodded," Well, I know Mr. Prurrbanks, but most of the important buildings around Magical London are vibrating due to unidentified reasons, well that is what the people are made to believe."

"And you think otherwise, Mr. Potter?" Olrags smirked.

Weasley curled his lips while his companion leaned forward. The man might have aged but he was a powerful wizard behind that boyish smile. "Fire is a common element. The goblins are supposed to be descendants of Rodnad. Way back in those days, our forefathers might have learned to transform themselves into dragons first, but it didn't end there. There were other creatures your forefathers learnt to transform themselves into, magical of course."

"Old Tales Mr. Potter. These days, we hear of people capable of transforming into lesser creatures."

"Mr. Prurbanks, why do you think that is happening? Why aren't witches and wizards no longer capable of performing extraordinary feats?" the inventor asked.

Flicking his hands and shrugging his shoulder, Olrags said nothing. Weasley softly whispered, "The house elves and the Goblins are the only one around who are capable of performing magic of the older kind. Then there are giants and veelas, but they are the dying races. We cannot count the werewolves of course because of their dubious origins. But Mr. Prurbanks, there are others who hide in plain sight. Others like the spiese direwolves of Romania or the Ursidea Boeie of North Africa, we know about the silver sharks of Bulgaria but these were the last ones to have learnt the trick."

Potter picked up from there," Before them there were other tribes who learnt to both fly and tame fire."

Olrags pursed his lips and gave in," The Phoenixes and the griffins."

Potter offered him a knowing smile, "Well then, I think I have wasted a considerable amount of your time. If you please lead us to our vault," patting their pockets they gestured, they had been carrying their keys all along.

* * *

Olrags watched the three wizards exit the bank and walk together down the street from his office window, wondering what it was that all three of them were trying to tell him. Graud flooed in and sat down sighing deeply.

Watching the other with a frown, Olrags asked, "So?"

"Nothing. We combed the whole place. As Filius had suspected, the Hogwarts Headmaster did approach Abe. But I am sure he knew nothing of us being around. I saw the cloth, Ol, it's genuine, elven material. You don't get to see anything like it anymore. It's fresh and smells new. The thread work too is perfect, not a stitch out of place. Are you meeting Filius for dinner today?" rubbing his neck the cousin and fellow member of the Goblin Order asked.

"Yes, I intend to. It seems Filius has a lot to share as well...received his owl a while back."

"Very well, then, my subordinates informed me, we managed to convince almost all of those fifty vault holders?"

"Yes almost. Though I am still to hear from the eldest Dumbledore. Madam Aida Pince was here on behalf of her cousin. Mr. Marcus Prince was unable to come down due to health issues. Strange woman."

"How so?"

"She walked away from a diminished but considerable amount of wealth and insisted on acting as its trustee. She has worked out a system that will dictate how much and how often the family can and will withdraw from the vaults. The whole arrangement is quite plaintive. She was interested in keeping things the way they are on date. But I told her, that is not quite possible. She has offered to run a school for young witches and wizards, but I was quite surprised to find her proposing to teach goblin kids as well. As for her argument she suggested Filius's name. What do you make out of the whole thing?" he asked cluelessly.

"We need to run that idea through the Goblin Order and our counsel. But I will still say that is an example of forward thinking." Graud rubbed his palms on his knees and stood up.

"If that is all, I better go back to my office. Got to finish off with the rest. Almost everything is in order. I just have to add the recent withdrawals made today. Say hello to Filius on my behalf. Ah! A little nagging thing. I think I saw Junas Lockhart at Hogsmeade today, I don't really trust that badger. We know we have already made arrangements to cover the thing, but we better be prepared for the evening posts."

Patting the other's back, Prurbanks sneered," Lockhart and his wild imaginations. Have some confidence brethren, he can sniff around, but he will never get to learn the truth."

Before leaving his office he reread the parchment, Potter had slipped in with his documents.

"Did you know phoenixes once sang old tales of bravery and that the dragon rider joined in? His voice they said was deep as the mountains and clear as water. It was louder than wind and buoyant with pure happiness. Only Albus alone could tame a phoenix in our times? What do you make of it?"

Then there was the strange box he gave away to Mr. Weasley. Olrags tagged behind them, as the latter placed it back into his vault. Right in front of him, the red haired man had said the following words, I swear on my magic and blood, I will return it when the son is of age."

Once alone in the tunnels far below the bank, Potter had informed carelessly, "I was brought up to believe in Old Magic. My old man used to tell me that we belong to the race of the men who had learnt the art of flight and produce fire. Supposedly, we get magic from the Phoenixes and the Griffins. We continued to thrive under their blessings until the Pervells went and messed with death. Though even in the darkest of nights, goodness continues to shine like a tiny flame of hope, my old man would say. He would rather put his faith on the fable which suggested he is a descendant of the Phoenix and Griffins, rather continue to feel miserable under the weight of being a man touched by Death."

Orlags had narrowed his eyes and kept quiet. Before climbing up the mine cart, Fleamont Potter told him, "if it ever comes to it, the Griffins and Phoenixes will rise again from eternal flames and rally together to revive Old Magic. Yes, one day, we will soar through the sky without our brooms. It is gradual, it is happening, we have offended our magic in many ways possible. And now it is leaving us." Mr. Weasley nodded in agreement.

"Potter was uncharacteristically chatty once we descended into the tunnels," the Goblin bank manager rubbed the edge of the parchment and studied the man's crest and smirked to himself when he noticed the subtle ways the phoenix feathers were included into the design.


	34. Chapter 33

Disclaimer: The same as the previous chapters.

* * *

**Chapter 33**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry  
****Scotland  
**_31st January 1960_

Madam Irene Moonstone informed the gathered staff members that there was little she could do. They would indeed have to wait for the uniquely powerful petrificus spell to wear off. It was quite baffling in nature because it was not allowing her to give Ogg the simplest of potions. It was only allowing her to read his vitals. As of now, his status was normal.

Hagrid whispered," How long do you think he is going to be like that…?" staring at his mentor the Half giant sniffed. Ogg was stern and dispassionate, but he cared for the expelled student. Deep down, he knew Hagrid was a victim and not an offender. He had seen how much the gentle giant cared for magical creatures, so he had accepted the offer of Professor Dumbledore and Former headmaster Dippet to train him.

Patting his heavy arms the Mediwitch smiled apologetically," Oh! He is fine, just knocked out. He will bounce back before you know it. He is Ogg, he never disappoints us."

Way down the castle at the Hogsmeade Village, inside the private quarters of Abeforth Dumbledore a rather unsavory conflict was rearing its head up.

Albus Dumbledore fumed from his chair beside the small dining table as his brother continued to give him a cold shoulder, tending to the meat.

"So that's all? You went up the mountains beside the Great Lake with your goats and found Ogg lying there among the ancient trees. You tried sending me a patronus, but you found you failed to conjure one?"

"Yes, Al, that's it. That is how it happened. It won't change even if you ask me a thousand times!"

"So you cared for him on your back down the hill. That is where you chanced upon Hagrid. Aren't you being casual about it?"

"Look who's talking!"

"Abe, it is not the same thing…" Albus sighed.

He was forced to look away when the other turned and half shouted, "Oh! Is that so? Unlike you Al, I don't pick favorites. Hogwarts is supposed to be your family now, but look at you, here you are trying to skew me, instead of finding out on your own what caused the man to get petrified in the first place!"

"Abe!"

"Oh! Shut it Albus! Tell me, had it been Filius or Minerva would you have been this casual!" The keeper of the Hog's Head Inn threw off handedly.

Abruptly getting up, the headmaster strode up to the fireplace and gripped at the mantle in order to steady his nerves.

"Leaving already, perhaps, I could finally manage to knock some sense into your scheming head!"

"Abe there is no point in continuing this discussion with you, when you insist on being unreasonable."

Shoving the meat inside the oven, Abe closed the latch forcefully and cursed, "No Albus, you are the bloody problem. You think that the whole world should rotate around you, but guess what, that is not the case. If you could have stopped agreeing to Gellert blindly and paid a little attention to your family and siblings, we would have Adriana with us, and we wouldn't have lost Mum and Dad like that!"

The younger brother watched the other older wizard's back stiffen ever so slightly and then he disappeared into the mist of green flames of the fireplace.

"Honestly Albus you have the world at your disposition, but look at you. Look at you brother, how alone you stand and how lonely you feel." Abeforth sighed and dropped down on the same chair his brother had occupied. A standard gringotts owl flew in. Offering it a bit of meat to chew on, he read the message and sighed," The forest has nothing else to offer, besides the distant whispers of Old."

Returning into his office, Albus Dumbledore roared in frustration then dropped down on one of his armchairs feeling utterly lost. It was so easy for Abe to judge him. There was a soft knock on the door and a little later Filius Flitwick walked in.

"I knew I would find you here, Albus."

"If I am that predictable, why didn't you offer your name for the post of Headmastership those many years ago?" Albus sneered and hid his face into his hands.

Offering him a tumbler of firewhiskey, Filius Flitwick came and sat next to him and said," Well Like I have said before, I don't like the Board of Governors and neither do they like me. Especially with the difference of opinions and the height!"

Dumbledore chuckled and downed the drink, then muttered into his glass, " You know Minerva is young. I am aware she has been seeking your counsel. I would like you to continue being her listening board, like the muggles put it."

"And may I ask where would you be off to?"

"I don't trust Riddle. I have learnt a lot from my past mistakes, Filius. I had a talk with Nicholas Flammel and I have owled to several of the magical schools around the world. None of their answers are satisfactory. All they have to offer, that perhaps, the magic embedded into the foundation of the school is readjusting itself. I have my doubts, I don't think it is so simple, Charms Master."

"What else do you wish me to do, Albus, other than continue to be the common friend between the two Dumledores and train the feisty tabby cat?" Filius jested.

"Can you continue to have my back? I know, you look out for me, is ways no one would have ever thought. Oh! Yes, I wonder if I have offended your brother by not appearing at the Bank today." Albus smiled and Filius noticed the twinkle in his eyes was back.

"He is not as stubborn as the pictures portray him. He understands. Though I think a small letter would keep him satisfied, for the time being. Oh! And if your hands are full, I would like to suggest a few names over the span of a week."

"Whatever for?"

"Students don't like to watch Albus Dumbledore joking that the castle is sneezing because it caught a cold! Miss Pince has already skimmed through the stacks in the library. I am sure a couple of Slytherins are at it now and so are some of the Gryffindors. I saw The Head boy and the Head girl coming out of the library with magical architecture books in hand." The charms Master informed.

"Filius?"

"Yes?"

"There is one more thing that is bothering me and I am unable to do anything about it. I am not going to fight Riddle when the time comes all by myself, yes, it will happen in future. But I will not fight him, instead I will try to make the Ministry take things more seriously. And in the sidelines, I am also planning to build up a team or order a society sort of a thing of able wizards and witches to fight against Dark Forces. It will take years, but I don't think I will have enough time to address the other glaring issue." The Headmaster watched his colleague intently.

Flitwick whispered," You are planning to train witches and wizards to fight from a tender age. Are you going to rehash the Defence against dark arts studies?"

"Not really, but I am planning to include Muggle Studies from the next session. The Board of governors have agreed but for Mr. Malfoy. I want the students to learn from the two Muggle wars waged pretty recently and come up with their own questions."

"Interesting approach, Albus. I say it will definitely work. In the meantime, if you want I can tailor my lessons to ensure that the students begin to ask questions instead of read and sit for exams and forget everything at the end of term." Flitwick's eyes shone with enthusiasm.

"Oh no! Your lessons are quite engaging already. Minerva told me about that little glass cleaning spell over breakfast. Congratulations Professor for influencing a student to come up with something so handy. You have been mobilising many brilliant wizards and witches. Consider Fleamont for example. Every year, he keeps surprising me with one odd contraption or the other. But that is not what I am asking of you, my friend."

"I am always trying to seek out the best in a student that walks into my classroom Albus. That is all I do. Now, just tell me, how came I help you?"

"I have heard the rumours Filius, that magic is dying. I know deep inside, I know it is dying. I can't explain the feeling exactly, but I wish I could do something about it" Dumbledore looked tired all of a sudden.

"Well, time and tide stops for none Albus. The cycle of Life must get completed at some point," the Ravenclaw reasoned.

"But must it stop? I don't think so? Filius all I am asking from you is to look into the matter as extensively as you can. If our end is near then so be it, but we cannot give up without a fight. I can't let Evil forces trample over every good thing that Magic stands for. Drumstrang Headmaster Andres Poliakoff wrote a while back that somehow, the school is incapable of admitting female students. He says, the hills surrounding the school sings in a language they can't quite understand. It so happens that Anatasia Krum is the only female student to have successfully completed her seven years course. She is currently pursuing her apprenticeship program."

"Not a good news, what do you think is stopping female students from attending the school?" Filius asked.

"I don't know. But I fear, if something like that happens to Hogwarts."

"Oh! Merlin, Albus, that's quite a stretch but I will try to look into it. Though Albus, if it was me, I would have pointed my finger at Drumstrang's stringent policy of inducting only pureblood students."

"Well, whatever it is, we just need to know more about it. I am counting on you, Filius."

"And you have my word, like always my allegiance lies with Hogwarts." the Charms professor nodded.

"Well then, I think a bit of tea can set our dueling minds to rest. Ahem, Abe...when you go down, could you...I mean would you?" Dumbledore's bit his lips.

Filius laughed at his expense," If you want I can tell him, That Great Albus Dumbledore is sulking in his high castle and wants to say sorry..."

"I am not going to apologize, this time there was nothing to apologize for. The twit rather tried to jump down my throat!" the Headmaster huffed.

"Oh! Merlin, and here I was flipping through books. I missed the fighting match. On a serious note Albus, Abe cares about you, even if he fails to show it. You, in turn look after him through your many minions," pointing his finger at himself the Ravenclaw Head of the House winked.

Albus was about to call from his personal house elf, when the floo connection came alive and Minerva McGonagall stepped in. Eying him closely, she pursed her lips and muttered, " At least there was no dueling this time! Now if you are feeling up to it, why don't we all go up the mountain and see for ourselves…"

"Ah! That's one thing Abe will agree on…" Albus sighed then turned at the fireplace. The floo connection had come alive once again, but this time, it was the face of Fleamont Potter hovering over the green flames.

"Fleemont, are you alone or you have a small band of wizards trailing behind you?" Albus asked, making a point to hide his emotions behind his grandfatherly smile.

"Headmaster, it's just the three of us, Septimus and Reverend. We got something important to discuss, and it can't be done through an owl."

"Then by all means please step in gentlemen." The headmaster conjured a couple of chairs for the newcomers and mused perhaps it was just the thing he was waiting for. Together they could go up the mountain look about. Unlike what Abe said, Albus Dumbledore was truly worried about every resident of the castle and he was not going to rest until he found the assailant responsible for petrifying Ogg.


	35. Chapter 34

Disclaimer: The same as the previous chapters.

* * *

**Chapter 34**

**Dragon's Kelp, Appalachian Mountains  
31st January, 1960**

Ursa Kolel-Buck sighed as she patiently waited for Matre Sol at the entrance of the latter's office. The news had spread like wildfires. It had taken every Kelp Member by surprise. Every other Kelp resident was born to tend to or ride dragons, other than contributing to maintaining the Herb gardens at The Gallows at the foot of the mountains. And to put a stop to it was more like ripping off one's soul into two halves. She was not a Kelper from the start, she was a Kolbi, who came by the sea to marry the man who loved dragons much like her, Brom Kolel-Buck. He was Darun Kolel-Buck and Nara Kolbuck, the former kelp Matre's baby brother. The last surviving Kolel-Buck Male. He had little or no love for rule abiding administrative jobs. He was a flyer, a dragon rider and a seafarer.

Ursa was born in the forgotten village in the heart of Isroza- the only remaining settlement of dragon herders, sandwiched between two mountains hidden behind thick pine and fir forests marking the border of Norway and Sweden. Brom Kolel- Buck was the newcomer in her secluded life. Though they started off as enemies, their personal dragons had other ideas. The only Short Snout whelp of the Dragon's Kelp had recognized Brom as his human companion. But none could help him in learning more about his beast. Under the circumstances, Solveig had reached out to the head of the Kolbi clan, Melvin, with a rare request. Shortly after, the young cousin had embarked on his journey to the other side of the world, with a magical creature hidden in his travelling case.

The Spiese who originated from Romania had received the young Kolel-buck at the shores of North Africa and had helped him travel through Europe and finally cross over the British waters without getting detected. The Boeie had received him just outside the redwood forests, from where they had to apparate a multiple times, to finally reach the frozen magical world up north. From a distance, the young man had looked at the black castle of Durmstrang and had felt the presence of darkness. It was a cumbersome journey, yet his spirits were lifted at the sight of Melvin Kolbi's daughter, Ursa waiting at the edge of the borders to receive the lone traveller. To this day, the man continues to believe it was the happiest year in his life.

The boisterous, stubborn and passionate man had managed to make young and spirited Ursa fall for him as they patrolled the mountains together perched on their mates Swedish short snouts, making sure the outside world and other magical communities stayed ignorant of their existence.

That is how they both had come across young Rohirrim Cel Cazut stumbling along the side of the mountain, half starved, exhausted and frightened. Later on, after her father had dropped the boy off beyond the boundaries of their magical village, he had told her," I hope you will get to meet him again," much to her dismay.

_Brom had his reservations for the quiet man, but Ursa had recognised him the very first day he had come to meet the Kelp Matre at South Tooth. He was taller, leaner and paler than before. His face, that sharp chin, hollow cheeks, thin lips and pointed nose were well camouflaged behind that ruddy beard. Even then those jaded black eyes didn't fool her. He made her uncomfortable, and he was aware of that fact. _

_Looking away he had greeted her by the only term he had learned from the Kolbis. "Hedrad syster"._

"_I was asked to expect you on these shores in my lifetime," she replied._

_Bowing his head, he just nodded._

"_The Gallowers call you the Walking Ghost, now I see why," she said in a matter of fact tone, trying to judge whether he would stick around or leave. His demeanor of a vagabond made her question his intentions. _

_Cel Cazut stole a glance at her and murmured," Last time I told you Hedrad syster, all I have is my old man Lohan. But now I am truly alone."_

"_You know I still don't trust you enough. I don't understand how come you are able to see and walk around places you are not supposed to know of...but look at you. I would like to make myself clear about one thing, Cel Cazut, this might not be Hjertet Av isrosa, but this my home, and I will warn you this one time, if you are here to do Dark Magic, the next time we meet, I will make sure my sword finds your throat," she murmured._

_He looked at his feet and nodded. _

_She narrowed her eyes and said, "I don't wish to get dragged into anything, Matre Sol must have already guessed you drabble in Dark magic. After all, that good for nothing school taught just that. But my father thought better off you, I will honour that."_

_Turning at her, he pleaded much like that boy those many years ago," Hedrad Syster, I came to honour your father's request. I came here because the folks of Spiese and Boeie all pointed in this direction. That day, I proved to your tribesmen I meant no harm. I give you my word, I still don't mean to harm anyone."_

"_Do you still speak to the trees and the birds?" _

"_I hear them talk to me."_

"_And what about the Dead?_

_The man had blanched at that._

"_I see. Like I said, I won't tell these people. I will watch, I will wait for them to find out about you on their own. We can be kind because we are born with dragon hearts, but if wronged, we are merlicess. I will keep my eyes trained on you just in case. Are you still good with your knives?"_

_Cel Cazur felt for them at his hip and nodded._

"_Keep them close all the time." She had turned and walked away, leaving the man under the arch of the corridor that led to Matre Sol's Tower._

Suffice to say, Celina Kolel-Buck's mother had taken her time to study the man clad in black. She had watched him from the shadows and had listened to her husband's misgivings about the new Gallower patiently," He is like the Dead. Cold yet alive. I told Matre we can't trust him, but she is allowing him to set up a shop now, she is allowing him to roam around the mountain, pick his way in the Herb Garden and fly on a broom!"

Brom had left Isrosa with a promise to marry her, and Ursa had waited for a word from the Kelpers for nearly a year. To keep her mind off, she had watched the Black castle of Durmstrang from far. There were several occasions where she had seen young Cel Cazut accompanied by a young girl walking around the frozen courtyards. There were times when they were joined by a smaller boy. Even from above the clouds, perched on her snow white dragon, she could see the two loved each other. She had heard the general gossip. The women at both the Kelp and the Gallows speculated about the young man's loveless life. But she never told them, if one once had the honour to love Anatasia Krum, he could never bring him to love another.

Brom Kolel-Buck had grudgingly accepted the man as a part of the Kelp, after he had saved Celina from certain death. But he was still wary of him. While her husband was down checking on the shaken healer, here she was wondering about Cazut. Her dragon Sarsa had alerted her of the rare magical explosion that had shaken the Kelp an hour ago. The husband and wife were flying over the place giving their familiars a chance to spread their wings. The two fully grown Swedish Short Snouts had driven back to the catacombs in a state of panic.

The Madam Second Handler of the Tooth tried asking Milis but the House elf refused to give in. Mentally, she kept asking herself,_"is it Cel Cazut? Is it because of him? Is Verus hurt?"_

"Oh Ursa! Good thing I found you", Matre Solveig hurried to meet the younger woman standing outside her office and sighed deeply. Grabbing at her shoulder, she urgently requested," Gather everyone at the Hall as soon as possible and ask the Kitchens to prepare for the guests."

The other stammered," Gather...guests? Matre I don't quite...Brom was gone to find Verus and is Cazut hurt? Milis won't say much."

"Ursa, buckle up. I am asking the Gallowers to shift to the Kelp. You know the rumours...well, they need our help, they can hardly control their magic. Naireen and I, we will try our best to keep a check on that."

"But why would the dragons refuse to fly, our Short Snorts just made a hasty return and then refused to listen to our calls, refused to say a word on it. And these rumours, have you really asked the Handlers to…" she said as she followed the other woman inside her office.

"Yes, No more flying or training with the dragons until I say so. Ursa, you will get to know everything in due time. Now, please girl, go and gather all the Kelpers. I would like to talk to them before the Gallowers arrive. And please make sure the children are not loitering about. From now on the Catacombs are off-limits," Solveig said while drawing up a parchment and grabbing her quill.

"I heard Verus put Norbit to that task," Ursa stood rooted, still not believing herself.

"Good, ask your house-elf, Rouhm to keep his eyes trained on them as well," Matre Sol muttered, as she started writing down a short letter to Raymond Rossier.

"Matre?"

Without looking up, the other hummed," Yes, Ursa?"

"Is Cazut causing all this?"

Her quill hovered over the parchment as Solveig brought her head up and watched the woman standing in front of her grabbing onto the backrest of a visitor's chair.

"Ursa I know Brom has never warmed up to that unfortunate man. But I am aware that you don't judge him so harshly."

"I...I don't. But Cazut, Matre he knows Dark Magic."

"And? Has he used it to cause disruption in our lives?"

"These vibrations...Matre?"

"Cazut has nothing to do with them. Ursa, I have felt them long before anyone else had. Naireen has accepted Cazut, the magic of our forefathers has included him within hours of his arrival those many years ago. Why do you think that is the case?"

Ursa bowed her head and said apologetically," Because his intentions are pure."

Nodding curtly, Solveig said in a much softer voice," Ursa, I will be asking him to train Celina in the coming years. I need you to accept the man. Tell me girl, has he hurt anyone?"

"No, but…"

"Yes, he is not the most pleasant man. He is too quiet and too withdrawn. But he needs us as much as we will be needing him in the coming years. I want your support. I know you were the one to find him in the wild only miles away from your village in Hjertet av Isrosa," waving her hand Solveig asked the other to sit down.

Watching the woman finally settled, she continued," do you know what he told me after confessing about his role in Celina's miraculous escape from the mouth of Death?"

"I did thank him after I found out. But he shrugged it off."

"That is typical of him," Solveig smirked," he simply said, I will watch over her. She has got the fire in her to be a warrior, while Tulip truly carries a Healers' heart. A year back, I discovered him fervently working on designs of short knives. Folkyre said the man was quizzing him about smaller hilts. The Smiths said, he was down at their hearth, trying to gauge the weight of various weapons."

"He prefers knives. He is good at them. He is potioneer. He uses all types of cutting tools,' Ursa reasoned in a frenzy.

Shaking her head, Solveig corrected, "He found out Celina watches the Handlers train and tries to imitate them. He told me and we both saw her at work right outside the Owlery. She is gifted. Cazut pointed out, if the girl could have something lighter on weight and narrow enough for her to grip on, she would be swinging her arms with much ease just like a seasoned fighter."

Ursa gasped," He was trying to come up with an ideal weapon for our Celina."

"Yes, he dots on these children as if they are his own kin. He watches over those whelps as if they are his children. The dragons greet him like a dear friend. Ursa he is one of us," Solveig paused and studied the woman now, quietly crying to herself.

"He continues to call me Hedrad Syster. What is wrong with him? Is he ill?" she pressed on urgently, trying to find a way to redeem herself.

"He is going to be fine. Ursa, I know Brom might think otherwise, but Naireen wants to induct Cel Cazut as part of Vaktare, Rikedom Vilt. Now that cannot happen unless the man was a pure soul and untainted heart, can it? There are things he is capable of, and we will need him, if we have to find a way to fulfill the prophecy and stop magic from wearing off from these parts of the world." She twirled the quill and closed her eyes, trying hard to stop herself from telling the young woman about everything else Naireen had told her.

"Matre, I give you my word. You will face no objection from Brom. I will get the guest quarters ready and will inform the Kitchens right away. How soon can we expect the Gallowers to arrive?" Getting up, Ursa straightened her robes and asked.

"Sometime around noon, I think. Though they will take a couple of days to settle and shift up their belongings," she opined.

"I will oversee all of that. I will send an elf once the others have gathered, now if you will excuse me…" without a word the woman had left.

Once her owl had flown off, Solveig slouched back on her chair and eyed the closed drawer at her desk. Naireen had mentioned hearing someone calling for the Vaktare, Rikedom Vilt Guld. After all these years, she thought of Isobel Ross, her only childhood friend, and drew a set of runic patterns over the wooden surface of the locked compartment.

Pulling out a concealed section, she brought out a glass ball and a stack of letters tied together with a red and golden ribbon. Right under the pile was a small moving picture of a little girl giggling on her mother's lap. Under it the sender had written," This is my rose, Minerva McGonagall. Only recently I found out she is a witch. Robert knows, but there will come a day when she will need her Aunt Sol. I hope you are holding on to my parting gift."

Touching the chubby face of the small child, Solveig started at the glass ball. Propped up on a carved piece of stone, that nearly resembled the Teeth, the ball was almost as large as a man's closed fist. Inside it, was a replica of Naireen that breathed fire from time to time. Solveig never knew that the dragon in her dreams was true, neither did Isobel. But the ten years older girl had honoured her small friend's request and had made the showpiece from scratch.

Turning the ball upside down, Solveig studied the faded words, 'Vaktare, Rikedom Vilt Guld," and shook her head. Isobel knew who she was, she knew what would become of her, perhaps that is the reason why she kept on asking Little Solveig to never stop dreaming.

Placing the glass ball on the table, the Kelp Matre touched her Pheonix Feather and whispered, "I have never stopped dreaming about you either, Phoenix. I never gave up on us."

* * *

A:N/ Hadred Syster; Swedish for Honoury sister.


End file.
